Harry Potter and the Slippery Secret
by C.T.Thomas
Summary: Harry returns to Hogwarts for a second year of really REALLY flamboyantly gay adverntures Continues from where Harry Potter and the Pretty Sorcerer's Balls left off. Complete.
1. The Worst Birthday

**Chapter 1 – The Worst Birthday**

Once Harry had run away from the Dursleys' and begun attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he had thought that he would never have to hear the name again. He hadn't taken into account that a Dudley free muggle summer camp would still play host to its share of would be Dudleys. Some were taller, all were slimmer, some had brown hair, some had curls, but they were just as Dudley as Dudley nonetheless.

Why couldn't he have been a William or a Charles or an Andrew? He could endure being Bob the Slob, he wouldn't bat a lightly mascara'd eyelash at Jake the Snake, heck, Harry figured he could even smile at Hester the Molester. But no, he had to be:

"Harry Fairy!"

Harry ducked his head under the table just in time to avoid the spoonful of green peas speeding toward him. He popped back up and continued his lunch without pause, allowing himself the teeniest shoulder shimmy and a small but indignant harrumph. He was prepared for a summer without friends, he had been through enough of them, only now, he knew that he had a group of best friends to return to once the summer was over.

Harry held back the frown that threatened to wash over him, it wouldn't do to have the camp bullies think they had finally got to him, especially after he had lasted so long already. The problem was that Harry was beginning to wonder if he really did have friends to return to once the school year began anew. Did he even have Ron to count on once he left the muggle camp?

Harry had sent Ron home with most of his wizarding things, including his beloved owl, Twinkle. His other friends - who thought that Harry would be spending the summer with his relatives - agreed not to send post too often so as not to startle the Dursleys, and Ron - knowing where Harry would really be - agreed that frequent owl post would be suspicious. Harry hadn't expected his friends to ignore him completely. Even Hagrid hadn't written and Harry was certain he'd have heard from the lovable giant man by now. He missed his friends and his school so much it was like having a constant tummy ache.

As August 1st approached, Harry's homesickness was doubled with anxiety, he hadn't received anything from Ron so he didn't know how he would get to The Burrow to spend the rest of the holidays, or if Ron's parents had even agreed to allow him to stay.

"They haven't forgotten me," Harry whispered to himself as he made his way to his afternoon riding class.

Summer camp was really a wonderful experience for Harry. He had signed up for lessons in crafts, horseback riding, swimming, and music, and outside of mealtimes, he was able to easily avoid the bullies and keep to himself throughout the day.

Harry approached his favourite horse, who whinnied as Harry petted him down, sensing his nervousness.

"It's my birthday today," Harry whispered to the stallion, "And I'm leaving tomorrow, but I don't know if I have somewhere to go."

Harry branched away from the group and edged as close to the forest as he could get without being noticed. Unlike the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts, this one was home to few wild animals - none with magical properties - and many species of bird, including owls which could be heard hooting throughout the night. Harry kept his eyes open for any owls that might be in search of him, perhaps carrying large bulky packages, or cakes, or a birthday balloon, but he was disappointed once again when nothing seemed amiss. He trotted back to the group to take his turn at the beginners' jump.

Harry turned to face the challenge and coaxed his horse to a gallop. He peered at the small hedge he was to jump - and found that the hedge was staring back. Two enormous green eyes had appeared among the leaves. Harry, apparently, wasn't the only one to notice this strange occurrence, the steed stopped dead in his tracks, launching Harry high into the air. Harry's eyes widened, and he sent an ear piercing shriek echoing throughout the riding area. In near slow motion Harry watched the ground approach, and then he did something that brought memories of his friend Neville Longbottom to mind, he bounced. Not once, not twice, but three times.

Winded and not trusting that he could climb to his feet, Harry rolled over onto his stomach and looked back in the troublesome hedges; the huge eyes blinked and vanished.

Within an hour Harry was lying in the hospital wing, presumably to rest. He had spent a considerable amount of that time being examined by the camp's doctors and nurses, and having the one bruise on his elbow X-rayed for good measure.

"I'm fine," Harry pouted.

The doctor shook his incredulous head and left him alone. Within seconds a huge barn owl swooped into the room, dropping a letter onto Harry's lap.

"Yea!" Harry squealed, his friends had remembered his birthday after all! He tore into the letter and gasped.

_Dear Mr.Potter,_

_We have received intelligence that a Human Spring Charm was used in a Muggle location, witnessed by several Muggles, this afternoon at twenty-three minutes past two._

_As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion from said school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C)._

_We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy._

_Enjoy your holidays!_

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Mafalda Hopkirk_

_IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE_

_Ministry of Magic_

Harry looked up from the letter and 'eeeked' in the back of his throat. His magic had saved him from a terrible fall but had nearly got him kicked out of Hogwarts! Any hope of using magic to contact Ron or make his way to the Weasleys' disappeared. He would rather wander the streets alone for the next month than risk his return to school. Perhaps it wasn't too late to sign up for the second month of camp?

If only he could contact this Mafalda Hopkirk and explain that he didn't mean to bounce, it just happened. There was a pen and notepad at the bedside table, all he needed was an owl. He glanced around the room hoping the Ministry owl had remained but saw nothing. The window was closed so Harry climbed out of bed and popped his head through the swinging hospital wing doors to peek into the hallway, where the owl had to have gone. It was empty.

"Humph!" Harry exclaimed, his hope of clearing up this nasty letter gone, if only he had Twinkle. Harry pouted his bottom lip with as much displeasure as he could manage and padded back to his starched linen bed, the trouble was, there was already someone sitting on it.


	2. Dobby's Warning

**Chapter 2 – Dobby's Warning**

Harry leaped into the air with a shriek. A little creature with large, bat-like ears sat on the edge of the bed picking nervously at the pillowcase of an outfit it was wearing, and peering at him with intent bulging green eyes the size of muffins.

"That was you in the hedges," Harry tossed his head, "You scared my steed and nearly got me killed!

The creature's bulbous eyes widened to an impossible expanse, "Oh no!" its voice was so high-pitched Harry felt his eyes begin to cross. "Dobby would never let any badness come to Harry Potter!"

"You know who I am!" Harry's angry pout turned into a grin as he squealed with glee.

"Oh yes," the creature shook with a vigorous nod then leaned in to screech in a solemnly hushed tone. "Dobby has come to see Harry Potter on a matter of great importance."

Harry clapped his hands to his face in excitement before he squashed his cheeks together forcing his lips to purse. "Dobby isn't someone else, is it?" he giggled, "I mean to say, that you are, eeek!, well, Dobby is you?"

Ears flapped madly as the creature's head bobbed, "Oh yes, sir, Dobby is!"

As it didn't seem that anyone else was expected to join them, Harry took this reply to mean that 'Dobby' and this odd creature were one and the same. He puffed out his chest, shimmied his shoulders, and with a wink at the scrawny creature still perched on the bed, stooped into a gracious curtsy. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Dobby," he batted his eyelashes.

The creature, Dobby, screeched out an enormous high pitched gasp and began to wail, "Never … never ever …"

"Oh hush," Harry straightened quickly, "I was just being polite. If a simple curtsy bothers you so, we'll have to shake instead."

"Kind kind Harry Potter!" Dobby wailed louder and launched upon the proffered hand with a barrage of kisses that made even Harry blush. "Dobby has never been curtsied to or offered a hand by a wizard, like an equal -"

"Humph!" Harry put his hands on his hips and scowled, "I'll see that my friends mind their manners the next time they see you, don't you worry."

Dobby tilted its bulbous head and widened its eyes, "Harry Potter's friends, sir?"

Harry pushed his bottom lip out at Dobby's display of puzzlement, "Didn't Ron send you?" he whimpered, "Aren't you here for my birthday?"

"No one is sending Dobby," Dobby answered carefully, then without warning he shrieked, "Bad Dobby!"

Harry gasped as the gangly little thing yanked its own ear with such force that its entire body was launched off the bed and into the air, landing in a heap where it proceeded to bang its head into the cold tiled floor.

"Heavens to Betsy!" Harry wailed, scooping the gangly little creature to its feet. "Whatever is the matter with you?"

"Dobby had to punish himself, sir," said Dobby, whose own eyes had begun to turn nose-ward.

"Punish yourself?" Harry gasped.

"Oh yes," Dobby nodded, "Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. Dobby has acted without his family's permission."

"You mean you've sneaked out of the house to visit me?"

"Oh yes," Dobby let loose with another vigorous nod and gazed up at Harry with adoration, "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you sir … Such an honour it is …"

"And if you're caught, your father will be very angry?" Harry pouted nibbling his lips with worry.

"Dobby is a house-elf, sir. Dobby's family is the wizard family Dobby serves."

"Serves?" Harry asked with narrowed eyes, placing his hands on his hips once again.

"Oh yes, Dobby is a house-elf, bound to serve one house and one family forever."

"Goodness!" Harry exclaimed, "How dreadful! But you've escaped - I'll take you to my friend Ron Weasley's house tomorrow, he comes from a proper wizarding family, they'd never put anyone's ears in an oven!"

Dobby shook his head solemnly, "A house-elf must be set free, sir. And the family will never set Dobby free … Dobby will have to keep punishing himself and will serve the family until he dies, sir."

"Don't give up Dobby," Harry's eyes welled with tears. "You've come to me for help and I promise I will."

Dobby dissolved into wails of shrill gratitude.

Harry crouched down and wrapped his arms around the boney, pillow-cased, muffin-eyed bundle, "Hush now," he cooed, "I'll find a way to get you away from that horrendous family."

"Harry Potter pledges to help Dobby … Dobby has heard of your greatness, and goodness, sir, but never dared dream that Harry Potter would be kind to even Dobby … But Dobby has not come to get help from Harry Potter, nobody can help Dobby, sir, Dobby has come to help Harry Potter."

"Help me?" Harry frowned.

"Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him … Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts."

Harry unwrapped his arms from the creature with a gasp, and backed away with narrowed eyes. "And why, pray tell, must I not return to Hogwarts?" he sniffed haughtily.

"Harry Potter must stay where he is safe," Dobby squeaked, "He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger."

"Harrumph!" Harry rolled his eyes, "Voldemort -"

Dobby clapped his hands over his ears and screeched, "Speak not the name, sir! Speak not the name!"

Harry rolled his eyes again, "- Yoo Hoo himself tried to kill me last year, that certainly qualifies as mortal danger, doesn't it? And I came out of it just fine."

"Yes! Yes!" Dobby nodded, "Dobby heard tell of Harry Potter's triumph over the Dark Lord just weeks ago. But there is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," the house-elf began to tremble and banged his head once against the floor. "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

"Will my staying away from Hogwarts stop this dastardly plot?"

The floor thumped twice with Dobby's head. "No, sir, but Harry Potter will be safe."

"And what of my friends?" Harry's eyes flashed, "Will they be safe?"

The little creature gazed up at Harry with watery eyes and shook his head. "Harry Potter will find new friends, sir, better friends, friends who will write to Harry Potter in the summertime, sir."

Harry gasped in a wave of understanding - his friends hadn't ignored him - this little thing had been stealing his letters!

"You've stolen my post, haven't you?" he seethed. "I want my letters back this instant."

"Harry Potter will have them sir, if he gives Dobby his word that he will not return to Hogwarts. Ah, sir, this is a danger you must not face! Say you won't go back, sir!"

"You expect me to renounce the only place I've ever called home because a stranger wearing a filth ridden pillowcase says I must?"

"Dobby -"

"Dobby," Harry interrupted, "Is probably lying through his teeth! If there was really danger at Hogwarts, you'd be with the Headmaster warning him! Not standing here with a young boy trying to convince him to play hooky. You've probably been sent by some rival Quidditch seeker, who's too afraid to face me again on the pitch this year!"

"No" Dobby squealed.

"Then prove it, little elf! Who's plotting trouble for Hogwarts?"

Harry pulled at his hair and let out a frustrated whinny as Dobby stammered and moaned pitifully, all the while pounding his head onto the floor. He knew the house-elf was telling the truth about the Hogwarts danger, that he wasn't trying to trick him - the adoration in Dobby's eyes was in earnest, he would put his head in the oven along with his ears before sending Harry astray. But a vague warning about an evil plan wasn't going to help anybody, the house-elf would have to talk! Harry huffed determinedly, clutched the sheets on his bed, and with a readying breath - pounced.

The tousle was long and vicious with Harry attempting to curb Dobby's information quelling punishments by swaddling him with pillows, binding them in place with the starched linen sheets. Dobby compensated for the now injury free head pounding by biting his tongue and the insides of his cheeks.

"I can't understand a word you're saying!" Harry threw his arms up in defeat and scooped the pillowed, slightly chewed house-elf up into his arms, depositing him and his cushioning on the nightstand. He yanked Dobby's hands out from his pillow binds and pointed to the nightstand's single drawer. Dobby sighed in relief and retold his tale, pausing every few words to squash one of his hands in the drawer. He didn't know much but the snippets he revealed were startling. The monster familiar of a powerful and evil wizard - who was neither Voldemort or Grindelwald, but was in fact a former student at Hogwarts - was going to be awoken once again from its secret chamber and unleashed upon the halls of the school!

"Now Harry Potter understands why he must not return!"

"I have to go back, Dobby," Harry whined. "I haven't anywhere else to go. If I don't go back to Hogwarts I'll be homeless, on the streets, that's even more dangerous than being in a castle with a monster." He sighed at the house-elf's reluctant stare and tried again. "The monster isn't after _me_, is it?"

Dobby shook his head in agreement.

"Then there's no reason for me not to go back to school. Yoo Hoo was after me last year, and I managed the whole year safely. In a school with hundreds of students and professors and a monster that doesn't care who its victim is, I should be fine. I'll just be careful … I'll inform the Headmaster immediately when I arrive and he'll take care of everything before anything has even happened." Harry nodded emphatically to prove his point though he secretly wondered whether the crazy old coot would be up for the task. Perhaps telling Hagrid and his most recent rescuer, Professor Snape, would be a better idea.

Dobby was clearly torn. "Albus Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had," he hung his head. "Dobby knows it, sir. But -"

"But nothing," Harry cooed, "You said yourself that the monster has been stopped before, when Dumbledore wasn't even the Headmaster! Surely now that he is, this monster will be defeated lickety split," Harry snapped his fingers. "Headmaster Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald, he's the only wizard, except me, that Yoo Hoo is afraid of. Surely this dark wizard you speak of isn't more powerful than Grindelwald or Yoo Hoo, is he?"

Dobby's left eye twitched spasmodically but he shook his head and refrained from punishing himself outright. Harry pressed his advantage and wrapped the ice pack meant for his bruised elbow around the house-elf's swollen hands. He coddled him to grateful tears before diving in for the kill.

"Couldn't I have my letters back now, Dobby? My friends must be awfully worried they haven't heard from me."

"Dobby has them here, sir," Dobby trembled, still teary eyed. "But Harry Potter mustn't be angry … Dobby hoped -"

"I understand, Dobby," Harry cooed softly, "You were just trying to protect me, and you have! You haven't anything to worry about, as soon as I get to school the Headmaster will have this all taken care of."

"Dobby must be getting back," the house-elf wavered tremulously. Harry nodded and began unwinding the sheets from the pillows encasing the odd little creature.

"Maybe if you think you can sneak away, without having to punish yourself too badly, you can come and visit me again sometime? At Hogwarts maybe, and I can show you that everything is safe."

The house-elf widened his eyes with awe and nodded enthusiastically. He reached into the folds of his pillowcase and produced an enormous wad of envelopes for Harry. Harry gave the creature a mighty hug and swore to keep his promise about getting the house-elf away from the horrid family he served before Dobby smiled and sighed, and with a crack like a whip, vanished.

Harry replaced his bedsheets and flopped down on the hospital bed with an exasperated sigh. "Kinky little creature," he muttered with a giggle. The small giggle grew to an ecstatic yea! as he clutched the stack of letters he needed two hands to hold. Hermione, Neville, Vincent, and Gregory had all written - often too! Draco had written no less than every three days -

"I know I'm not supposed to send too many owls but I'm bored … You said you wouldn't be able to write a lot but this is ridiculous! … If you think I'm sending your birthday present when I don't even know if my letters are reaching you, you have another thing coming … What the hell is going on over there?"

- and was clearly growing ever more agitated regarding Harry's well being. But that was it. Nothing from Ron had arrived. Maybe Dobby had purposely held back Ron's letters? But why? No. Ron simply hadn't written.

Harry was frantic. The Weasleys may have forbidden Ron from contacting him - angry over his role in Ron and Draco's friendship - thinking Harry a dark wizard! Something may have happened to Twinkle, his beloved owl! Goodness, Harry shrieked aloud, something may have happened to Ron and the adorable twins and that splendid Percy and … ! Harry paced about the hospital room faint with anxiety. He would find his way to the Weasleys' home the next day - no matter what, to ensure that Ron and his family were safe. If it turned out he wasn't welcome there, he would simply pick up the wizarding things he had left with Ron and do what he could to find alternate housing arrangements. Harry gulped and blinked back tears - he had faced Voldemort himself and near death at the end of the last school year, but he had never felt more frightened than he did just then.


	3. The Burrow

**Chapter 3 - The Burrow**

Harry awoke the next morning calmed, reasoned, and determined. Surely the Weasleys were safe and sound, otherwise Hermione would have mentioned something in her letters, and she hadn't expressed worry of any kind. Ron must have been owling her or she would have asked if Harry had heard from him. No, Mr and Mrs Weasley were simply a very strict, Light wizarding family concerned about Harry's friendship with Draco - a Malfoy - and the influence it was having over Ron.

Harry was determined to prove to them that he was a safe, respectable young man, with nary a dark bone in his body. He would present himself as such an ideal houseguest that they'd wonder how they could ever have thought him to be anything other than the darling boy he was. They would invite him to stay and a wonderful month would be spent with his best friend, and his best friend's older brothers. There would be plenty of roughhousing, because boys will be boys and that's what boys did.

Harry gelled his hair into his most angelic look, with cherub curls framing his face, easily covering his lightning bolt scar to ensure an anonymous trip through Diagon Alley later on. He donned his white summer trousers; green fabric had been appliquéd into a large stem with leaves that swirled up from the right calve, sprouting a cheerful pink embroidered daisy at mid-thigh. He completed his ensemble with a rainbow striped tee shirt he had dyed himself for his science project two years back that the Yellow Tuna and Uncle Vernon had never permitted him to wear. Harry blew a kiss at the mirror before proclaiming himself ready to face the world head on.

Harry sent back broad toothy grins in response to the array of snickers many of the muggle camp attendees gave him and his wonderful summer attire. In just an hour he would be out of the countryside and into the real world - the magical world, where his trousers would surely garner an appreciative wink or two.

Breakfast was a short affair and soon Harry was swept up into the bus that would shuttle the departing children back to the city. They disembarked a few blocks from Kings Cross station.

After exiting the Hogwarts Express at the beginning of summer, Harry had used the remainder of the muggle money he'd had on hand, to taxi to the camp pick up point from Kings Cross. He peeked into his money purse yet again and pouted at the remaining Knuts and handful of muggle change. With a wistful sigh, Harry swung his shoulder-bag back in place and dragged his half empty trunk along behind him, weaving through the bustle until he came to an empty, though dilapidated, side-street.

Harry popped open his trunk and whisked out a bolt of fabric seemingly made of liquid silver, his invisibility cloak. With a flourish he draped the cloth around him, covering as much of himself and the trunk as he could. He didn't have enough money to taxi to the muggle/wizarding crossover point at the Leaky Cauldron, and wheeling his trunk the entire distance was out of the question. A quick jaunt through number 4 Privet Drive would take care of everything. If the Dursleys caught him they'd have him locked in his cupboard in a finger snap, released only for bathroom breaks and slave duties, so he would have to be quick about the trip. So long as he didn't land directly on the Yellow Tuna when he appeared in the foyer he'd be fine.

He crouched down on all fours and reached into the plastic bag inside his shoulder bag, with a telltale pull and a glaring halt, Harry found himself face to face with an unfamiliar hardwood floor.

"Humph!" Harry couldn't help his outburst but grabbed onto the portkey again in a flash, transporting himself out of Privet Drive and away from the Dursleys' new flooring, into the now quite familiar, small corner just by Diagon Alley. Even on his hands and knees, Harry landed with an unceremonious flop. He picked himself off the cobblestones, pulled his cloak over his head and dusted off his darkened knees.

"Wretched Dursleys!" Harry stomped his foot, "The slave labourer makes his escape and suddenly ivory white ceramic tile that needs to be mopped ever other day isn't good enough for you?!" They had probably hired a gardener as well! Harry pouted in full and held back a wave of anxious tears. The previous day's concerns stormed over him and to top it off, the knees of his favourite trousers were now dusty from his portkey dismount.

Harry fanned his face with his hands and tried to calm himself down. He had to act quickly before someone wandered into the alleyway. He encountered a frustrating problem immediately – his trunk. He couldn't risk just leaving it in a hopefully never visited side-street, and he certainly couldn't risk covering it with his invisibility cloak for fear that someone might stumble upon the invisible obstacle. Dragging it around all over town would raise too many questions, unless … unless he only went to places where questions were never asked.

Harry tittered nervously as his plan took shape and he began to comprehend just how potentially dangerous his day had become. He breathed deeply and allowed his feet to take him to a place that would surely steel his nerves and resolve, the Gringotts bank. This was familiar ground and he knew just how to do what he needed without having to worry about suspicious eyes turning his way.

Accompanied by a shrivelled and liver spotted goblin, Harry sped deep underground in a Gringotts cart and made his way to his vault. He withdrew nearly three times the sum that he had taken the previous year and converted more than half into muggle pounds. If worse came to worse, he would portkey back to the Dursleys' and use every penny bribing Dudley into hiding him for the rest of the summer.

A purse full of pounds and Galleons suited Harry well, and by the time he made his way out of the lavish marble hall, Harry was brimming with courage and confidence. He waved happily at the goblins minding the entry, his gait fast approaching his usual glee filled prance.

His recent encounter with Voldemort had taught Harry a couple of important survival lessons: be prepared and use what you've got. So before Harry arrived at his destination, he put a few Sickles and Knuts in his trouser pockets and locked his shoulder bag away in his trunk, but not before removing his alley/Privet Drive portkey. He clutched the plastic bag in his hand and breathed a sigh of relief that he'd be able to transport himself to relative safety in an instant if the need should arise. He puffed out his chest and turned the corner into Knockturn Alley.

Draco had told him about his own infrequent excursions with his father into the Dark Arts breeding ground, but in his tales about human kidney selling hags and eyeball thieves, he failed to mention the general ickies that exuded from the are. It was as though the sun forgot to shine there. The streets were positively piled with dinge and dust, and there wasn't a shop in sight that didn't scream for a good window wash and eye-catching display.

"Harrumph," Harry sniffed, "you'd think a self respecting dark wizard out for wealth and power would prefer not to shop like a pauper."

"Who'er yoo callin' a pawper?"

Harry shrieked as an aged witch leaned in close to him, leering behind porridge grey pointed teeth, while she prodded his shoulder with a furled, four inch long, fingernail. He threw caution and careful planning to the wind and hot-footed into the closest shop.

He stumbled through the door and into a dank and dimly lit shop filled with racks of wands and holsters. A quick listening pause and glance around told him that the room he was in was at the very least free of porridge toothed hags. He turned to the wizard sitting behind the thick wood counter and breathed deeply to catch his breath, though the sight before him all but sent him into another pant. A devastatingly handsome, chestnut haired man appraised him with a shrewd, near purple coloured eye.

Harry forced his fear to take a backseat to the gulp and tingle he hadn't felt since being engulfed in a post Quidditch Cup Weasley twin hug. He gave his portkey bag a reassuring squeeze and eased his mouth into his most dazzling grin.

"You walk around Knockturn Alley with a grin like that and you'll go home without teeth." The man's silky voice sent two shivers down Harry's spine for very opposing reasons. He squeezed the plastic bag again and refused to give in to the voice in his head – sounding strangely like Draco – yelling for him to forget about the handsome man and visiting the Weasleys, run like the dickens, and take his chances bribing Dudley at the Dursleys'.

Harry summoned his sass and with a final squeeze of the portkey bag, gave his shoulders a shimmy and tossed his cherub styled head. "If anyone tried to take my pearly whites, I dare say they'd be in for a surprise," he gushed. "I didn't just wander in accidentally you know, I know where I am."

The purple-eyed man tilted his head in a very slight nod and curled his lips into a stunning, yet feral grin. "Well then Mister I Know Where I Am, what can I do for you?"

Harry forced his eager emerald greens into his best no-nonsense face and planted his portkey hand on his hip. He had heard Draco's spiel on enough occasions to know just what a Dark merchant like this would need to hear, and launched into the speech he had planned during his trek to the dingy alley.

"I'm a pureblood wizard but I had to grow up with muggles," he forced a delicate shiver and sneer, "I've been invited to spend the remainder of the summer with a prestigious wizarding family and I certainly do not want to show up in a muggle car." Harry raised his eyebrow pointedly and allowed himself a mischievous grin. "I was hoping you could tell me about the various legal modes of transport available for underage wizards?"

"If you're looking for legal you should have asked down at Flourish and Blotts," the purple-eyed man chuckled silkily, "Now, what's your name?"

"Honey," Harry retorted, "You don't really think I'm so green as to tell you my name, do you?"

"I think you're so green you've just told me that your family doesn't expect you back all summer and your hosts don't know how or when you're arriving at their manor."

Harry blanched and the Draco'like voice in his mind began chanting 'I told you so' in such an arrogant manner that he was half tempted to give Draco a good smack when he saw him next – if indeed he did. The purple-eyed man was, however, still sitting motionless behind the counter, and Harry need only shift a finger ever so slightly and he'd be back at Privet Drive. He stood his ground.

"You're not going to make me show you what I'd do if anyone tried to take my nibblers, are you?" Harry forced a giggle.

"Well whatever it is, I have a feeling it has something to do with that plastic bag you're clutching so hard you're knuckles are whiter than those teeth of yours."

"Oh go poop in a hand basket!" Harry burst out. "You'll either help me or attack me, but whatever you're going to do just get _on_ with it already!"

A sharp but earnest laugh escaped the dazzling man before settling back to the delicious chuckle. "I like you, Mister I Know Where I Am, even though you clearly have no idea. And while it has somehow escaped your attention, I am helping you, far more than tips on wizarding transport ever could."

Harry blushed profusely but his hold on the portkey relaxed somewhat.

"Now, you are going to answer at least some of my questions," the handsome man winked. His friendly tone put Harry back on guard; he would have to be on his toes if he wanted to keep from telling him everything. "Why are you really here?"

"I told you already," Harry gushed, "I want to find a wizarding way to get to my friend's house."

"Alright," the man nodded with a smirk, "so why not ask at Flourish and Blott's or anywhere else on any other street but this one?"

Harry blushed again and could see no way out of answering, "My trunk. People would ask why my family had, well …"

"- had simply dumped you in Diagon instead of seeing you safely to your hosts."

Harry nodded.

"Yes, Knockturn is the place to go if you want to avoid questions … so is Gringotts." The man raised an eyebrow as Harry blushed yet again at his words. He chuckled, "You've quite foolishly gone there first, haven't you? And as you have no idea just how much it will cost to reach your destination you've likely withdrawn a dangerously liberal sum." The man peered intently at Harry, "When in Knockturn, you carry just as much as you think you'll need and no more – Gringotts withdrawals are to be made afterward."

Harry rolled his eyes at his own stupidity and nodded to the man.

"And how is it that you're here alone, without your family?" the wondrous voice continued.

Harry thought fast, "They don't know I'm visiting a wizarding family. They think I'm at a muggle friends."

The man smiled and nodded again. "Now, this is just to indulge my curiosity, so feel welcome not to answer. But I must ask about your plastic bag defence system?" he said with a lopsided grin.

Harry inched his finger along the inside of the bag, closer to the rolled up newspaper, just in case revealing his defence landed him in hot water. "It's a portkey," he returned with a coy grin of his own.

"Well you certainly were prepared for the worst." The man stroked his chin thoughtfully, "Are you familiar with the Floo network at all?"

Harry narrowed his eyes and shook his head, unsure of where this new line of questioning was going.

"Then you'll not have a Fire Call address, you'll want to use the Knight Bus instead. Ranges from 5 Sickles to 1 full Galleon. Most of the time you'll simply raise your wand at the roadside and they'll find you. Generally though, they don't pick up on the wizarding side of the Leaky Cauldron since wands are constantly being raised for reasons other than transport but you can book a pick up through a fire call." Harry shivered as the man flashed him a quick wink, "I'll do that for you now."

Harry readied his finger just shy of the portkey while the man slipped out from behind the counter and seemed to glide toward the fireplace near the back of the room. He threw a pinch of something into the blaze and the orange flame burned green.

"Knight Bus reservation department," he dipped his head toward the flame and yelled, still half turned to face Harry and the entranceway so as not to miss a movement if one occurred. He edged his chestnut mane away just as a disembodied head appeared within the green flames.

"Reservation for?" the head enquired.

The purple-eyed man raised an eyebrow at Harry and smirked.

Harry batted his eyelashes cheekily, "Buddy Cole," he answered with a smirk of his own.

"Destination?" the head questioned.

"Malfoy Manor," Harry allowed a coy grin to shine through, catching the barely perceptible but telltale widening of those dangerously delightful twin plums.

The head in the flame announced his departure time as 23 minutes from then, at a pickup point in front of Gringotts bank.

"I don't know if you realise how lucky you were that it was my shop you stumbled into today."

Harry nodded, "But why?" he batted his lashes, "Why ever did you help me?"

The man paused, "A child who finds his identity so worth protecting that he would risk an expedition alone into Knockturn Alley, is not a child one abducts and sells for parts on the black market, regardless of the hefty price such a child might fetch."

Harry gulped.

"Though the next time you find yourself here, you'll want to keep in mind that not all of Knockturn's patrons or merchants are as prone to clear thinking as I, especially when you insist on calling undue attention to yourself." The man unleashed his feral grin, "The dress code in Knockturn, is black. Good day, Mister Cole."

Harry finally gave in to the Draco'like voice and ran like a hellcat. He dragged his trunk behind him and didn't stop his nimble feet from racing across the cobblestones until he had reached the Knight Bus pick up point. He doubled over to regain his breath before finally popping his trunk open and returning the portkey to his shoulder bag.

"Sold for parts!" he wailed to himself with an all over shiver. "Goodness! What parts? I'll never be rid of this case of the willies."

Harry was still reeling from his adventure with the handsome man when a great BANG sent him leaping high into the air with a wailing 'eeek'. A towering automobile had appeared, leaving Harry standing under a reminiscently purple cast. The Knight Bus.

"Buddy Cole?" a somewhat pimpled but reasonably cute teenaged boy climbed off the triple-decker bus and questioned into the crowd. "Buddy Cole goin' ter Wiltshire?"

"I'm Buddy," Harry squeaked, "but I'm going to Devon, just outside Ottery St. Catchpole."

The teen groaned, "I aint ever goin' ter get this straight!"

"Calm yourself, Stan," an elderly wizard peeked his head out of bus door. "It's just a clerical error."

The teen nodded and began loading Harry's trunk into the baggage section of the shockingly purple bus. "London to Devon then … 13 Sickles."

"14 Sickles, 7 Knuts," the wizened wizard corrected. Stan groaned again.

Harry was led onto the first floor of the bus, where instead of the expected rows of seats he found that the bus was lined with 6 single beds! 4 of which were unoccupied.

"Oh doodles!" he whimpered under his breath. With an ongoing, lowgrade 'eek' Harry edged away from the beds and returned to where the elderly wizard and Stan were just settling into large cushy looking armchairs at the front of the bus, wondering all the while whether or not the beautiful violet-eyed man had got the better of him. The bus lurched suddenly, sending Harry spilling forward.

"Best find a bed, Mr. Cole," the elderly wizard, who was now driving the bus, tilted his head back toward the array of four-posters.

"Maybe I could just sit up here?" Harry widened his eyes shyly at the teen.

"Why not?" Stan agreed. Harry perched himself on the arm of Stan's cushiony chair and smiled winningly at the pimply boy who didn't look at all like he could be a part of something underhanded.

"What kind of bus is this, exactly?" Harry peeped cautiously.

Stan turned in his seat and grinned, "Transport for stranded witches and wizards. The beds shuffle a bit but they're great for the long rides – get'cha anywhere yeh want ta go, we do – so long as it's on land."

Harry relaxed – his lavender-eyed Knockturn man hadn't led him astray after all, his parts weren't in any danger. "And you're a driver?" he asked.

"This here's Ernie Prang, he does all the drivin', I'm the conductor – plan our route and all tha'."

"That sounds like a lot of responsibility," Harry cooed.

"Well, I'm still startin' up 'ere at the Knight Bus corporation so Ernie's been 'elpin' me ou' till I ge' the hang o' things."

The ride was uneventful, save the constant lurching bursts into one town or another to pick up or drop off a passenger. Harry chatted with Ernie and Stan throughout the trip about this that and the other, and learned about the Floo Network that the dreamy man in Knockturn Alley had mentioned. It was a fire and fireplace based transport system in which a witch or wizard climbed into a connected fireplace and traversed the network until being expelled at their destination. Buns stayed un-toasted by way of Floo powder, which was tossed into the flame before climbing in.

"Ottery St. Catchpole!" Stan announced finally, "Only one house 'ere before you reach the village proper, so I guess that's where yer goin'?" Harry nodded and braced himself for the coming lurch.

With another BANG, the bus had pulled up a few metres away from a tumbledown garage in a small side yard. Harry's gaze danced about to include an oddly shaped fairy tale cottage. It was as though someone had moved into Hansel and Gretel's forest abode – then padded it out with extra rooms, stacking it several teetering stories high. Harry squealed with unrestrained delight when his eyes fell upon a lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance, which read, THE BURROW. He had made it!

"Bye Buddy!" Stan waved as Harry wheeled his trunk down the path to the door.

"Bye Stan!" Harry waved back with a wink, "And honey, don't forget to swab a little muggle mouthwash on your spots before bed, they'll clear up in no time!" He waved until the Knight Bus disappeared with another loud BANG.

Harry took a deep breath, lifted his chin, and puffed out his chest. He was ready. He would wow Ron's parents till they didn't know what was what and he'd be enjoying the rest of the summer with his best friend, and it would all begin in just a few moments. There was only one thing left to do. Seeing no obvious doorbell, Harry raised his wrist and with a bold shoulder shimmy, knocked smartly on the wooden door.

He stood at the door, the stoop shaded him from the sun but he threatened to break out in a sweat nonetheless. With bated breath he waited, but a few long moments later the door swung open.

"Harry!" Ron's familiar voice bellowed. A split second later the redhead had hoisted the smaller boy into the air in a bone-crushing hug, scooping him through the door and into the house.

"Mum!" Ron bellowed again, bustling Harry into the cosy kitchen. "Harry's here!"

"You mean your parents know I'm coming and it's okay for me to stay?" Harry squealed.

"Of course it's okay, Cupcake, I told you a thousand times in my letters! Why didn't you come earlier? Why didn't you owl me back? Were those canapés mean to you?" Ron rambled ferociously.

Harry's jaw dropped but before he could say a word a sea of red hair clouded his vision.

"Harry me boy!" Fred clapped him on the shoulder,

"Fancy seeing you here at the Burrow," George chimed in with a pat on the back.

Harry had spent all morning either keeping his knees from wobbling with the handsome purple-eyed man, or batting his eyelashes at the oblivious teenaged conductor of the Knight Bus - and quite frankly, he had had enough! If the Weasley Mister and Misses had already given permission for him to stay, then angelic behaviour be damned, he leaned in and surprised both twins by lavishing their cheeks with kisses until both were blushing Weasley red.

"Been a long summer then?" Ron snorted and pulled him off of the for once speechless twins.

"You don't know the half of it!" Harry gushed before launching on Percy with a chaste kiss on the cheek and a grin. He did the math and glanced around, he was one Weasley shy of the full available set. Another redhead was found standing at the foot of the stairs – glaring poison dipped daggers at him. She turned on her heel and bounded up the steps. A few moments later a great SLAM echoed through the house.

"Oh my," a slightly taller red-haired woman spoke from behind Harry. "Heaven's knows what that was all about."

Harry smiled at the kind face beaming down at him, "Good afternoon Mrs. Weasley," he sent the plump figure into a wave of girlish giggles as with batting lashes, he bent to kiss her hand. "I'm so glad to finally make your acquaintance."

"What a little gentleman!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed. "Welcome to our home, it's a shame you were unable to visit us sooner."

"There were some difficulties with the post, Mrs Weasley," Harry's emerald eyes twinkled. "Otherwise I would have been here ages ago."

Harry gazed eagerly about the first wizarding home he had ever been in. The house was cosy and bright, filled with gadgets he had never before seen. Everything seemed to ripple with magic and warmth and love - as though the entire house was snuggled into a wonderful Weasley jumper. It was just the way a home should be!

Ron glanced at him nervously, "So?" he muttered.

Harry threw out his arms and spun around in a joyful circle, as he had seen done during the opening credits of the Mary Tyler Moore show, if only he had a hat to toss in the air! "This is simply divine!" he squealed.

"Come on," Ron grinned, "You'll be staying in my room."

Ron and Harry each hoisted an end of his trunk and the two made their way to an uneven staircase where they wound and zigzagged up through the house. After 5 staggering flights of stairs, Harry was ushered into RONALD'S ROOM.

Harry's temperature went up immediately, as was usual for all visitors to Ron's room. Between the orange walls, floor, and bedcovers, it always seemed the room had caught on fire.

Ron peeked down the hall to ensure that the twins hadn't followed them before shutting the door.

"Now, bloody hell, Harry, what happened this summer?" Ron asked in hushed tones while Harry enjoyed a feather-flurried hello with his beloved Twinkle. "Why haven't you been answering my letters?"

Harry harrumphed, "A crazy little house-elf spent the last four weeks stealing my post! I didn't receive any of my letters until just yesterday, when he showed up in the hospital wing of the camp! But of all the letters," he whimpered, "There wasn't a single one from you."

"I owled you about a hundred times and Twinkle kept coming back empty footed," Ron exclaimed. "My mum and dad didn't think it was safe for you to be staying with muggles because of what just happened with You-Know-Who and they said you could come weeks ago." Ron lowered his voice, "I told them about your canapé and that you might not be able to come until now."

"Camp, Ron," Harry giggled, "I went to camp."

Ron nodded absently, "Harry, if you hadn't shown up today I was going to tell them everything. Dad would have contacted Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic I bet, so they could all start looking for you." Ron breathed deeply, "I thought something might have happened to you but if everything was fine and I told my parents about your relatives then you might end up in an orphanage, I, well, I didn't know what to do."

"Oh Ron!" Harry squealed, hugging his friend again. "I didn't mean to give you a scare, if I had got any of your letters I'd have left the camp ages ago! That horrid little elf!"

"It's okay," Ron patted Harry's back, "We just have to think of something better for next summer, or you'll have to keep Twinkle with you wherever you are, or you'll just stay here like you should have in the first place." He paused, "Why didn't the house-elf give you my letters? Why was he even lifting your post, anyway?"

Harry told Ron everything about Dobby, from being thrown from the horse and receiving a Ministry citation, to the house-elf's warning about the upcoming danger at Hogwarts. His news was met with incredulous eyes.

"I did tell him I was going to your house today, maybe he was trying to keep me from coming here. Maybe he thought I'd not find my way to Hogwarts if I didn't come to stay with you."

"I don't know," Ron shrugged and groaned, "I wish you'd got here sooner, though, Cupcake. Fred and George have been driving me nutters, they've been 'inventing' all summer and tricking me into being their guinea pig! And Percy's shut himself up in his room all the time, not that he's much company anyway. And Ginny, blimey, she's either completely ticked at me for who knows what reason, or going on about how great it's going to be when we're at school together! I think she's gone off her head being here alone so long."

"Probably just woman problems," Harry nodded knowingly.

"Must be," Ron agreed.

"She certainly didn't seem to like me very much," Harry pouted.

"Yeah, she was glaring something fierce before she ran off like that," Ron nodded. "Crazy though, Mum says she had a right crush on you last year – you'd think she'd at least want to meet you."

"Your sister had a crush on me?" Harry giggled. "Goodness, she certainly likes a challenge!"

"She caught a glimpse of you at the Hogwarts express last year," Ron snickered, "And Mum says she's been mooning after you ever since. Well, until I caught her up that you were into Quaffles, not goalposts."

Harry burst into titters, "What?!"

"Uh," Ron blushed, "You know what I mean!"

Harry giggled until his eyes watered.

"You'd better owl everyone to let them know you're alright," Ron interrupted still red-faced, "No one has heard from you since school ended."

"I'd better tell them about what Dobby said too," Harry agreed, "Maybe Draco will know who this new Dark Lord is."

"Better not, Harry," Ron cautioned, "What about Malfoy's father?"

"Dobby said that the wizard behind it wasn't Vol –" he stopped short as Ron began to cringe, "- Yoo Hoo but I guess you're right."

"You know," Ron suggested, "It's only the richest wizarding families that have house-elves bound to them. I'll bet Malfoy's family has one, you should ask him if their elf knows Dobby."

Harry nodded eagerly and the two set off in an instant, setting quill to parchment.

The afternoon was spent composing letters to their friends and catching each other up on the events of their summers.

"You went to Knockturn Alley?" Ron exclaimed with both awe and fear, "By yourself?!"

Harry nodded sheepishly.

"Whoa!"

The two scrambled to send off their post before heading downstairs for dinner.

"Has Twinkle been like this all summer?" Harry frowned after fastening his letters to the snowy owl's leg.

"No," Ron shook his head, equally puzzled. "Just glad to see you, I guess."

Twinkle was hooting merrily and pecking gently at Harry and Ron's fingers and hands. Finally she set off out of Ron's window and swooped three gleeful circles before making her way to her various destinations.

"Well," Harry giggled nervously, "That was odd."

Ron clapped his hand to his forehead, "I forgot to ask Ginny if she needed to send anything! She sends notes to some of the girls she plays with around here sometimes," he explained with a slight blush, "And the family owl is half dead and Percy will never lend her his -"

"Ron," Harry whined as they made their way down the winding staircase, "You don't have to explain, Twinkle's your owl too. And I think it's just darling that you're nice to Ginny."

"Oh my!" Harry clapped his hands together with glee once they had arrived in the kitchen, "Good heavens Mrs Weasley!" The table was packed to bursting with an array of dishes so tempting Harry felt he must have starved all summer at camp.

"That's my seat!" Ginny snapped as Harry settled down between Ron and Percy at the dining table.

"Ginny!" Mr Weasley exclaimed.

"That's okay," Harry grinned, it was just the chance he had been hoping for. He left his spot and pranced happily to the other side of the table to scramble into the middle chair before Fred and George could sit down, forcing the twins to sit on either side of him.

Ron snickered and groaned, "You don't know what you've set yourself up for, Harry."

Harry wiggled into his seat and grinned back.

With a deathly look at her youngest, Mrs Weasley turned back to Harry with a smile, "I was hoping to goad you into sharing a few of those canapé recipes you were so busy with these past two weeks."

Harry burst into giggles - while Ron blushed crimson - and attempted to explain the concept of muggle camp to the Weasleys while avoiding mention that he had been there the entire summer.

"And these chaps are important when riding horses?" Percy questioned earnestly.

"Very important," Harry nodded with gleaming eyes, "But you can wear them even if you're not on horseback."

Mr Weasley soon had Harry engaged in a conversation about electricity and the role played by plugs and outlets.

"I've got a wonderful collection of plugs in my tool-shed but are outlets really necessary?" the clever-eyed man ran a perplexed finger through his thinning red hair.

"Oh yes, sir, it's, it's like Quaffles and Goalposts sir," Harry flashed a quick wink at his extremely red-faced friend, "If you can't find a goalpost to put the Quaffle through …"

"I see," Mr Weasley nodded.

"Eeek!" Harry jumped.

Mrs Weasley jumped to his defence with the most natural reaction one could expect in the Weasley house, "Fred!" she exclaimed.

"What are you looking at me for?" Fred exclaimed looking scandalised, "I've been on my best behaviour."

"That's not exactly saying much," Ron snorted while Mrs Weasley narrowed her eyes, scrutinising the twins.

Harry pouted at Fred and turned back to his potatoes. A few moments later he 'eeek'ed again. The table turned to George this time.

"What are you all on about?" George questioned innocently, managing to look even more scandalised than his twin.

"That hurt!" Harry whined. "I don't know which one of you is doing it but stop it this instant. Playing footsie and kicking someone in the shins are two different things!"

The twins shared a hurt look.

"Someone's inflicted with bodily injury -" George complained,

"- and we get blamed right away, even when -" Fred continued,

"-it couldn't possibly be one of us."

"Not really our style, is it George?"

"Not at all, lacks finesse."

"Eeek!" Harry jumped again. He, Fred, and George all glanced at each other before turning to a curious Percy, then Ron, before they settled on …

"Ginny!" Ron roared, "You can't kick Harry! He, he's delicate!"

"Ginerva Weasley," Mrs Weasley seethed in a deadly whisper, "Harry is a guest in our home, and I will not have him mistreated. You will apologise immediately or leave this table at once!"

Ginny glared at Harry then fled from the table. The remaining Weasleys braced themselves for what was to come - SLAM! – only Harry was surprised.

"Harry," Mr Weasley began, "I must apologise on Ginny's behalf. I don't know what's got into our little girl."

After dinner, Harry waited until the Weasley clan was busy with the twins' antics before sneaking away and tiptoeing up to the third floor, where GINERVA'S ROOM was to be found. Harry knocked gently and waited. Hopefully, Ginny would have calmed down by now and the two could find a way to get along.

The door swished open, "What do you want?" Ginny hissed once she saw who was knocking.

Harry forced his cutest smile, "I think we may have got off on the wrong foot," he cooed, "When Ron told you about the -" he rolled his eyes, "- Quaffles and goalposts, he didn't mean you and I couldn't be friends. So if that's what this is about, you don't have to worry."

"Don't you get it?" Ginny spat, "I don't want to be your friend, you ruin everything! Ron was my best friend before he left for school! Now all he does is talk about you, _'Harry's the youngest seeker at Hogwarts in over a century,'_" she mocked, "_'Harry's the top potions student even though Professor Snape hates him.' _You forced him to run around with dark wizards and then you nearly got him killed! You weren't even supposed to come here, but you show up anyway even though you knew you weren't invited! You already got your own family killed, leave mine alone!"

Harry's mouth dropped open in shock and fury, "Honey," he snapped his finger, "The only reason I haven't slapped you cockeyed is because you're _my_ best friend's little sister, and I don't know if you've noticed you evil eyed hag but Ron isn't going to get rid of me anytime soon. And maybe if you weren't so busy yapping your gutter mouth off about things you don't know about, your brothers wouldn't be so quick to shove you aside!" Harry's emerald eyes darkened and he leaned in for the kill, "By the way, little missy, you kick me again, and I won't care who's sister you are, you'll find out first hand how this little wizard stopped Voldemort in his tracks." Harry let loose with a triumphant z-formation three snap when Ginny's eyes turned fearful at both the threat and the spoken name, and with that he turned back to the rickety stairs and scampered up to the fifth floor.

"Harry?" Ron's voice called, "Are you up here?" his head peeked around the fourth floor landing.

Harry mewed in response from his spot at the top of the stairs.

"What are doing just sitting there?" Ron grinned.

Harry sniffed. "I came up to make friends with Ginny."

Ron narrowed his eyes, "What did she do to you?"

Harry rolled his eyes and finally allowed a small grin, "You're such a worrywart, Ron, I think I could hold my own against an eleven year old girl if need be … it's just, well she said some things that ruffled my feathers and so I said some things too, and, she really hates me, Ron, she thinks I've stolen you away from her."

"What?" Ron snorted, "That's nutters! She's just jealous I have a new friend is all, once we're at Hogwarts and she's got her own friends, it'll be fine."

Harry nodded sadly, then gasped, "I thought you said that I was invited to stay?"

"What? What are you on about?"

"Ginny said I wasn't supposed to come, but that I showed up anyway even though I knew I wasn't invited."

Ron's eyes flashed with livid understanding, "That's why Twinkle was so happy to send our post off today!" he exclaimed, before he turned on his heel and raced down two flights of stairs, leaving a very confused Harry in his wake.

Ron threw open Ginny's door, "Where are Harry's letters?!" he roared, "I lent you Twinkle and you stole the letters I wrote for Harry, didn't you?"

Ginny turned her eyes to Harry who had just caught up to Ron, "You told on me!" she screamed. "You -"

And the two Weasleys were off, yelling so loud that Harry clapped his hands over his ears.

"SILENCE!" a voice boomed above the shouts. A sabre-toothed tiger seemed to have taken over the place where Mrs Weasley stood, an array of red-heads were lined up behind her. "What is the meaning of this?!" she seethed.

"Ginny's spent all summer stealing the letters I was sending to Harry!" Ron yelled. "Harry almost didn't come because he thought he wasn't invited!"

"Ginny!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed, "Is this true?"

"He shouldn't be here!" Ginny burst into tears.

"Ginny, where are the letters?" Mr Weasley stepped in.

"And Harry's birthday present?!" Ron bellowed.

"I burnt them," Ginny sobbed.

Ron nearly choked, "You bloody git!" he strangled out with a roar.

Mrs Weasley had time enough to gasp before Ron turned and stomped away from Ginny's room. Harry followed behind after flashing Mr and Mrs Weasley an apologetic shrug.

The door was closed when he reached the fifth floor room, "Ron?" Harry called gently. He peeked in after receiving no reply. He inched inside the blazing orange room and found Ron huddled under his mass of Chudley Cannon bedcovers.

"Ron?" Harry cooed, "Don't be angry, it doesn't matter anymore if Ginny was stopping your letters, I made it here anyway, didn't I?"

Ron peeked a blotchy red face out from the blanket, "It's not that," he groaned. "She burned your birthday gift."

"Heavens to Betsey, Ron, I don't need a birthday gift, being here is better than anything."

"I wanted to get you something though, I saved all summer for the money for the owl order," he grumbled, muffling a sniff with his blanket.

"Oh Ron, you shouldn't have done that," Harry cooed, "We're supposed to make each other gifts, remember?"

"I know but it's nice to buy things too … ergh!" he groaned, "I hate being poor sometimes."

"We are not," Harry huffed indignantly, "We're just on a budget! We won't be officially poor until my vault is down to its last bag of Galleons and if we're smart about it, that won't be for years yet."

"I meant me, Harry, my family."

Harry's eyes watered, "What is that supposed to mean?" he whimpered.

"Harry," Ron groaned, "you know you're like a brother to me but this is different."

"How so?" Harry sniffed, "I thought we were supposed to share things."

"There are some things you can't share, Harry," Ron struggled to explain.

"Does that mean that Scabbers isn't my pet too?" Harry whimpered.

"Of course he is!" Ron burst out.

"And Twinkle is yours just as much as she is mine?" Harry asked.

"Yes, but -"

"But what?" Harry gushed, "There are two kinds of family, Ron, the one you get stuck with 'cause you're born with them, and the one you choose because you like them."

Ron nodded.

"Now the family I got stuck with is either dead or -"

"- or absolute rubbish," Ron interrupted, "Which is why you're here, so my parents can take care of you."

"Exactly," Harry cooed, "because the family you got stuck with is kind and wonderful. You knew the Dursleys were horrid so you're sharing your family with me. And the Weasleys don't have a lot of money, so I'm sharing my vault with you."

"That's different, Harry."

"It is not," Harry pouted, "It's not as though I'm giving you a handful of Galleons, we're sharing, that means we have to plan and budget together, and that's going to include a ton of things that are just for me sometimes, like paying for summer camp and things like that. We're the other kind of family, right, Ron? The kind where you and I are brothers but I'm in no way related to Fred and George?"

Ron snorted and Harry could see him beginning to crumble, "Besides," he continued with a triumphant grin, "It isn't as though this is forever, it's not like we're _married_ or something!" he giggled, "When I'm old enough to take care of myself then I won't need to share your family so much."

"And when I'm old enough to get a job and everything …"

"Exactly!" Harry grinned, "And really, Ron, I'm spending a whole month here, that costs your parents a lot of money, and we both know they're not going to let me pay rent or anything like that. So if they don't have to worry about spending money on you then it all kind of works out, doesn't it?"

"I guess," Ron grinned slowly, "Though if you're going to share my family, you should keep in mind that Bill and Charlie aren't here, and Ginny still hates you."

Harry giggled and yawned.

"You're tired already?" Ron asked with concern.

"It's been a really long day, Ron," Harry rolled his eyes, "And contrary to Ginny's belief, I have not taken over the position of little sister, so you don't have to look so worried all the time."

"Oh just get to bed already!"

oo0O0oo

"Harry!" Ron leaned over from his bed and shook Harry's shoulder, "Harry, wake up!

"Whathemuble?" Harry murmured sleepily lifting the handmade, pink satin sleeping mask from his eyes. Harry had sewn it himself from a scrap of cloth he had squirreled away, after taking up the hem on one of the Tuna's dresses.

"You were having a nightmare," Ron explained.

"I'm sorry," Harry pouted, "It must have been a bad one if I woke you, go back to sleep."

Ron frowned, "What do you mean, 'it must have been a bad one?' Have you been having nightmares?"

"It's just a scary dream here and there, nothing like it was last year at Hogwarts."

"You were having nightmares at school?" Ron exclaimed.

Harry nodded with a pout.

Ron sat up in bed and furrowed his brows. "Come on then," he nodded.

"What?"

"If I had nightmares when I was little I'd crawl into bed with Fred and George, and they'd stop."

Harry beamed delightedly and transferred his pillow from the cot he was in to Ron's bed. "Are you sure?" he gushed.

Ron nodded with a snort, "But no funny business!"

"Don't flatter yourself, I'm saving my funny business for the twins, thank you very much. Hey, you said Fred _and _George, not Fred _or_ George," Harry's eyes took on a naughty sheen, "Does that mean they share a bed?"

"Harry!"


	4. At Flourish and Blotts

**Chapter 4 - At Flourish and Blotts**

"Well, what have we here?

Harry pulled the sleeping mask off his eyes and cast a dreamy smile at the vision before him, four red-haired identical faces were beckoning to him from just inside the door.

"I must still be dreaming," he cooed to himself. "Just one minute boys, I'll get the whipped cream."

A gale of snickers drew his attention - that had never happened before. Harry rubbed at his eyes and the four sets of salacious smiles became a pair of matching cheeky grins.

"Oh poop," Harry muttered, "It's just you two."

"Just us two!" Fred exclaimed.

"You wound us, Harry, you really do."

"We hate to break up your, ahem, welcome to the Burrow party," Fred chortled.

"- but Mum wants Ron out of bed pronto," George finished. "Something about cursing and punishment if I'm not mistaken."

"And she wants to speak with you too, Harry," Fred grinned.

Ron groaned from under the orange Chudley Cannons blanket.

"Ah," George sighed mockingly, "Young love."

"Oh shut it," Ron emerged from the orange mass, "Harry had a nightmare so -"

"Sure," Fred and George said together with a very exaggerated wink at Harry.

"A nightmare, Harry," Fred admonished, "Surely you could have come up with something less obvious than that?"

"Ron is rather thick, Fred," George smirked.

Harry sat up and directed a shoulder shimmy at the twins, "If it was that kind of nightmare, I would have ended up in your room, now wouldn't I?" he giggled.

Ron threw a pillow at the twins that finally sent them on their way.

"I wonder why Mum wants to talk to you?" Ron muffled out from behind his half removed pyjama top.

Harry poked his friend's belly, "Even your tummy has freckles," he giggled.

"Harry, Ron," Mrs Weasley began with a stern face, "While Ginny should never have stolen or read Ron's letters, the fact remains that she did, and she is now under the impression that Harry is here without his Aunt and Uncle's permission. Is this true, Harry?" the gleam in her eye left little room for falsities, the boys shared a frightened look and both gulped.

"I do have permission to … be away from their house this month, Mrs Weasley," Harry nodded wide-eyed and began relying on technicalities. "It's just …"

"Harry's Uncle doesn't exactly know he's at a wizarding friends," Ron chimed in.

"I see," Mrs Weasley narrowed her sabre tooth tiger eyes, "And why is that, exactly?"

The boys shared another look, "The Dursley's hate magic Mum." Mrs Weasley's eyes shot open in surprise.

"They think it's very dangerous," Harry gushed quickly, "And since my mum and dad were the only magic people they ever really knew, and they were both killed by wizards … well it's very hard for them to see magic as something safe."

"And they feel they can't protect you in the magical world," Mrs Weasley caught on.

"They don't even like me attending Hogwarts." Harry allowed his eyes to well up.

"You can't send him back, Mum!" Ron pleaded. "You said yourself it wasn't safe for him to be away from the wizarding world!"

"We won't do anything hasty," Mrs Weasley softened even further at the sight of Harry's watery eyes and Ron's pleading ones. "Perhaps just an owl, letting them know who we are and that you're safe."

Ron and Harry shared another look before Harry agreed.

"I think an owl would be fine." He wiped his eyes.

"Well then," Mrs Weasley raised an eyebrow at Ron, "I do believe you have a garden to de-gnome, young man, they're getting completely out of hand again."

"De-gnome?" Harry puzzled.

"Gnomes wreak havoc on our garden this time of year," Mrs Weasley fretted, "But you don't have to worry about that, dear, you weren't the one spouting obscenities last night."

Harry glanced at Ron just in time to see him roll his eyes.

"Oh please, can I help?" Harry pouted, "I've never seen a real live gnome before."

"You can keep Ron company, but he's to do the work," Mrs Weasley agreed, "Now, lets see what Lockhart's got to say on the subject."

She rose from the table and pulled a heavy book from the mantelpiece.

"Mum," Ron groaned, "I think I know how to de-gnome a garden!"

Harry looked at the cover of the book. Written across in small, fancy gold lettering was the title: Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests. A large photograph spanned the remainder of the cover. It was a picture of a very breathtaking wizard with long blond hair that cascaded to his shoulders in perfect waves, each lock looking like spun gold. His eyes were a shade of blue Harry thought only Muggle contact lenses could attain. Harry peered closer, nearly pressing his nose to the cover to get a closer look - they were contact lenses!

As always in the wizarding world, the photograph was moving; the wizard - Gilderoy - kept winking seductively at them, now flashing a sparkling smile.

"Oh, he is marvellous," Mrs Weasley primped herself at the book-cover.

"His tooth just winked at me!" Harry jumped up aghast.

"They do sparkle so, don't they?" Mrs Weasley beamed.

"Of course they do," Harry tut-tutted, "They're caps! Oh Mrs Weasley, you shouldn't waste yourself on that phoney baloney. I bet he doesn't even like witches."

"Oh no!" she exclaimed, "Not Gilderoy Lockhart! Witch Weekly spotted him lunching with Gafelda Cauldpot just last week."

"Take it from me, Mrs Weasley, no wizard with hair like that is even remotely interested in girls, no matter what he might want the book buying public to think." Harry nodded emphatically and spun a perfectly formed curl of his own around his finger to prove his point. Ron grabbed Harry's wrist and dragged him out of the kitchen before he upset the now steaming woman further.

"No one's allowed to speak against Lockhart, Harry," Ron snorted, "Mum fancies him."

The garden was large and almost savage. Weeds were overtaking the tomatoes, and plants were spilling over from every flower bed. The trees were gnarled and needed trimming, and the grass was in need of a good cut. Harry glanced around with widened sparkling eyes, it was an enormous project but he had the makings of a prize-winning garden on his hands.

Ron was bent double with his head in a peony bush, "See Harry." He popped back up with an enormous potato in his hands, "This is a gnome." He held it at arm's length and the leathery potato kicked out at him with a pair of stumpy legs. Ron swung about in a circle and let the gnome loose like a shot-put, it sailed over the fence and into the neighbouring field. After a moment it climbed to its feet and slumped away, dejected.

Harry shrieked in surprise when he noticed the multitude of gnomes now peeking up into the garden.

"They always come out to have a look when we're de-gnoming, they want to see what the ruckus is about," Ron explained. "Makes them easy to catch."

While Ron continued his gnome-toss, Harry began picking wild flowers and daisy-chaining them into gnome sized tiaras. Once he had completed a handful he pounced on the first gnome he could find, kneeling on its feet to keep it from running away. After a mild squirmish he managed to enclose the gnome's hands with one of his own, and with the other he pulled a flower crown firmly in place on the bald potato-like head. He let the gnome loose and pounced on another, then another. After claiming a fourth victim, he stopped to admire his handiwork only to find that the three crowned gnomes were speeding away, running to the fence to join their expelled cohorts.

"Come back!" Harry wailed after the fleeing gnomes, "I just wanted to make you pretty!"

"Harry," Ron snickered, "If the gnomes want to run away, let them! We're trying to get rid of the these things, remember?"

The de-gnoming of the garden took no time at all after that. Harry made the daisy-chains while Ron attacked the gnomes with the garlands. For the most part, the gnomes left of their own accord, fleeing before they could be crowned.

"You'd think they'd appreciate being spiffed up a bit," Harry pouted.

Life at the Weasleys' was more extraordinary than anything Harry could ever have imagined. The house was constantly bustling and bursting with magical occurrences. There was a ghoul in the attic that rattled about whenever things seemed too quiet - though with the continual explosions and guffaws of laughter coming from Fred and George's room, the ghoul need do little work. Harry received a great shock one morning when checking his hair in the mirror over the kitchen mantle. He was just about to give himself a wink when his mirror image shouted, "Too much gel today, pretty boy!"

Fred and George burst into snickers when Harry gasped and threw his hands to the offending curls. With a sniff, he settled himself into his spot at the table, tucked nicely between the twins, and - once Ron had forced Ginny to trade seats - directly across from his best friend.

Unlike the morning post at Hogwarts, owls flitted into the Weasley home at all times of day, more often than not arriving with letters and notes for Harry and Ron. Twinkle seemed overjoyed with the amount of post she was now delivering, though she hooted indignantly whenever she was in Ginny's presence. That day, however, Twinkle swooped into the kitchen with an unusually regal air, she was followed closely behind by a familiar grand eagle owl. The owls circled the table once before dropping fat envelopes on Harry's lap.

"Draco finally owled us back," Harry cheered, "and another from Hermione!"

"Nothing from Crabbe or Goyle today, Cupcake?" Ron snickered, "Are you fighting with your boyfriends again?"

"Oh hush, they are not my boyfriends!" Harry turned his blush to the much appreciated distraction at the front door. Mr Weasley had just stumbled in looking frumpled and weary. He lumbered into the kitchen and slumped into his seat while Mrs Weasley rushed about, coddling him with tea and biscuits.

"Another set of raids, Dad?" Fred asked eagerly.

"Nine," Mr Weasley yawned, his eyes perking up at the sight of his spellbound audience, "And you wouldn't believe the things we found, not too much for my department -"

"Misuse of Muggle thingies?" Harry peeped.

"That's right, but we took in quite a haul for the Experimental Charms department." He grinned blearily, "And that shifty Mundungus Fletcher tried to hex me when my back was turned!"

Harry gasped and the boys waited eagerly -

"But I noticed just in time and dove out of the way. I say though, the portrait he hit will never be the same, that fur was still growing when we left."

"Has everyone gone mad this summer?" Ron snorted while the two opened their post later that morning, "Read this!"

Harry glanced over the letter and wrinkled his nose, "I think he's trying to write in code, Ron."

"Code? _Yes, I've been to Dublin, years ago with Father, horrid place. You should keep away from there_. What in blooming hell is that code for?"

The boys frowned and pouted respectively before they shared a wide-eyed and frightened look.

"Dobby!" Ron exclaimed. "'Yes, I know Dobby, I met him with my father, this is dangerous. Don't mention him in your letters again!'"

"But that would mean -" Harry gasped, " - that Mr Malfoy is in cahoots with the new Dark Lord!"

"Well he was in cahoots with the old Dark Lord, so I don't know why you're so surprised."

"He's in on an attack on his son's school!" Harry squealed.

"Things are looking up for us then because he'll want to keep Malfoy out of danger, won't he?" Ron reasoned. "Which means we'll be safe too."

"We have to find a way to talk to him," Harry pressed his hand to his forehead and flopped onto his back next to Ron on the bed, "We need to find out what's going on! Do you think your Mum would allow Draco over for dinner or something?"

"I don't know, Harry." Ron frowned, "Malfoy's dad is really dangerous, it probably isn't a good idea for him to know how to get to The Burrow. We can arrange to meet him when we go to Diagon to get our school things," he nodded, "Hermione too."

"And Vincent and Gregory and Neville," Harry pressed firmly, "We left them out of way too much last year."

Ron grimaced but agreed.

The days passed quickly and much to Harry's pleasure they were often filled with freckle-faced Weasley boys. They played pick up Quidditch games in a paddock the Weasleys owned, and raced broomsticks around the property - even Percy was persuaded to join in now and again. Ginny remained obstinately anti-Harry but refrained from anymore untoward outbursts. Molly Weasley began stealing Harry away in the evening so the two could swap recipes in the kitchen, and Arthur kept Harry giggling madly with his questions about the Muggle world and ways. Between Molly and Harry an outline was made to whip the unkempt garden into groomed excellence and Harry had already spent a full afternoon peeking delightedly as Fred guiding the magical mower about the overgrown grass, the red-haired boy's T-shirt long since cast away in the heat. Owls poured in constantly with sweets, notes, gags, and grins, and plans were in motion for a reunion in Diagon Alley.

"Letter from Malfoy," Ron grinned one afternoon. Their Hogwarts letters had arrived that morning, and their Diagon date was set for the following Wednesday. Ron gave the letter a glance and snorted loudly, handing it over to Harry.

"_'Father's buying me a new broom,'_ blah, blah, blah, _'Crabbe, Goyle, and Neville all rushed off to Diagon this morning to pick up their books! The duffers said they need to start studying as soon as they can if they want to keep up this year, sounds like a certain bookworm has been lecturing via owl post, doesn't it? So it'll just be us on Wednesday, we're flooing to the Leaky Cauldron and will meet you there at 10am **sharp**.'_" Harry rolled his eyes, "We wouldn't want to keep the aristocracy waiting!"

Tuesday evening found Harry frowning at the contents of his trunk, and deepening that frown once he sorted through Ron's wardrobe as well.

"What's up, Cupcake?" Ron was near glossy eyed at the strewn about clothing.

"I wear way too much pink!" Harry squealed. "I haven't a single decent black outfit, and you're even worse, everything you own is orange!"

"Cannons colours," Ron pointed out the obvious.

"We need black, Ron, B-L-A-C-K, black." Harry harrumphed, "And you need a baseball cap."

"What are you on about?" Ron exploded.

"'The dress code in Knockturn is black,'" Harry quoted sheepishly, "At least that's what that looker I told you about said. And come to think about it, everyone there was dressed in black, or a dirty sort of grey."

Ron gaped at the smaller boy, "You want to go back into Knockturn Alley tomorrow?" he exclaimed.

"Uh huh," Harry shimmied absently, "There's no way I can be that close without peeking in at Mr Handsome. We'll have to find a cap to cover your hair, we can't have anyone knowing that one of Arthur Weasley's boys is wandering around the wrong side of the tracks."

"Wicked."

The entire household was up and buzzing early the next morning. Harry gelled his locks into a spiky bad boy hairdo -

"You're not exactly looking dangerous, Cupcake," Ron chortled.

"I am so!" Harry pouted.

- and swaggered about in the dark blue jeans he had over-dyed himself, and his black leather look vest. They eventually found a pair of black pants for Ron, and paired it with his standard orange Cannons T-shirt. A black T-shirt for Ron and a blue bandanna for Harry were tucked into Harry's shoulder-bag for use later in the afternoon.

"Well don't you two look ready for a spot of mischief!" Mrs Weasley gushed. "Don't you let that Malfoy boy lead you astray, now."

The boys shared a glinting look, "He won't!" they replied in unison.

One by one the entire group swished their way through the Floo network with Arthur Weasley pulling up the rear. It was minutes to ten but Draco had already arrived. He stood next to a taller man who could only have been his father, both sporting pale, pointed faces, steel grey eyes, and imperious, irritated, put-upon frowns.

"Oh quit sulking, Draco," Harry giggled nervously, the tension in the air was thick, "It isn't even 10 o'clock. If you wanted to meet sooner you should have just asked." He stepped forward for a tight hug from the now smirking boy.

Draco stepped back and turned to the man beside him, "Harry, may I introduce you to my father, Lucius Malfoy, Father, this is Harry Potter."

Harry flashed his thousand watt grin and shook hands with the senior Malfoy, "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr Malfoy," he cooed. Draco then repeated the procedure for Ron before being introduced to the Weasleys.

The entire group stood staring awkwardly or glaring determinedly before Draco finally griped whether they were going to do their shopping or not. With the tension loosened slightly they all trouped through the pub, and after a few well placed wand taps by Mr Weasley, through the back alley wall. As the boys would be meeting Hermione away from Mr Malfoy's Muggle hating eyes, on the front steps of the Gringott's bank, and the elder Weasleys needed to cart to their vault, the majority of the group continued in a straggly line along the cobblestones toward the towering white goblin run building.

"You're father is certainly …" Harry began dreamily as he skipped along.

"Scary," Ron supplied.

"Sexy," Harry corrected.

"Harry!" Ron choked.

"Well he is," Harry squealed, "Goodness Draco, if all the evil wizards look like your father, I'll be joining the dark side quicker than ants on honey."

"Ahem."

It was a raised eyebrow and amused smirk that greeted the boys as they turned their heads to the noise. Harry gasped.

"I will meet you in Quality Quidditch Supplies at 2pm, Draco, do not be late."

"Oh my gosh!" Harry wailed, as Mr Malfoy's lean frame turned toward a side street. "You don't think he heard me, do you?"

Ron and Draco nearly doubled over with laughter.

"Serves you right for talking about my father that way."

"Thank goodness I never talk about Mr Weasley like that!" Harry exclaimed in hushed tones, glancing around to ensure that the senior Weasleys were out of hearing range. "If he overheard me I don't know what I'd do, I have to go home with them!" he giggled.

"Hey!" Ron cried out in alarm, "What's wrong with my father? Not that you should be looking anyway!"

"Oh Ron, you're father looks like a kind, wonderful man, just the way a dad should look." Harry skipped happily, "You know, like he was _the_ Hogwarts' heartthrob and married the cutest kitty-cat in school, then settled down and had some little ones. And while he's obviously still an attractive man, it's clear that he's traded being a hotty for being a good dad." Ron seemed satisfied and pleased with this description. "Mr Malfoy, on the other hand," Harry shivered happily, "Mr Malfoy looks like he should be playing the lead in a primetime drama, a man who gets his way, all the time, no matter what."

"That doesn't mean he's not a good father though," Draco's frown increased as his grin faded.

"Of course not," Harry grinned cheekily, "A good father -" he shimmied his shoulders "- but a _bad_ _daddy_."

"Harry!" Ron blushed crimson, "How do you make that sound so, dirty?!"

They arrived at the foot of the financial monolith and were immediately engulfed by a brown pouf ball.

"I missed you guys _so_ _so_ much," Hermione squealed, throwing her arms around the group. After another round of introductions, Hermione dragged the boys away with her parents calling after them, reminding her about their meeting place.

"Hermione!" Ron gaped with a proud and awed look, "That was downright rude."

"Have you told Draco yet?" she pressed. It was time to talk business.

"We couldn't," Harry shook his head. The four students hurried to a quiet coffee house where they ordered hot chocolates and began whispering to each other excitedly.

Once Draco was caught up on the Dobby/Dark Lord/Hogwarts situation - they turned to him, waiting for his information about the house-elf.

"But, it doesn't matter, right?" he sputtered instead, ashen faced, "You're going to Dumbledore first thing so it'll be taken care of right away?"

"Of course," Harry shared a worried look with Ron and Hermione. They had never seen Draco this out of sorts.

"Malfoy," Ron clapped him hard on the shoulder, "What the devil's the matter with you?"

"Dobby," Draco whispered, "Dobby's _our_ house-elf. If he had this much information it means my father is really involved, he could go to prison!"

The Gryffindors exchanged another look - this one of fear.

"Don't worry," Hermione whispered as the friends huddled closer together, "We won't tell anyone, no one will know he was involved."

"That's right," Harry nodded, "I'll say that the elf didn't tell me its name."

"Better yet, he won't even mention a house-elf at all," Ron added, a house-elf's involvement would greatly narrow the list of possible culprits. "He can say he received an owl."

"Right," Draco scoffed, "Like that's believable. Dumbledore will ask where the letter is, and why he didn't send it to the authorities immediately."

"Actually," Hermione whispered, "it really isn't a good idea. Professor Dumbledore will wonder how an owl found you in the first place, Harry, you're under a ton of different protection spells, you know. If we didn't have your express permission to send post …"

Harry gaped at this new information.

"She's right," Draco nodded absently, before unleashing a mild smirk, "Didn't you ever wonder why you didn't get any fan mail? Or hate mail," he added as an afterthought, "Boy-Who-Lived and all that."

"I bet thousands of kids write you letters, Harry, adults too, especially around Hallowe'en," Ron blushed.

Hermione twittered and covered her mouth with her hands, "You didn't!" she burst out.

"I was five!" Ron exclaimed, now beet red. "Anyway, so he can't say it was a letter."

"No, he can't," Hermione agreed still giggling, "Otherwise Professor Dumbledore would send out a team of aurors to check the wards at Harry's house, I'm sure. It wouldn't be right to waste their time like that, and they'd find out that nothing had slipped through anyway which would leave us in an even worse predicament."

"We still have two weeks before we leave for school," Harry peeped, "We'll think of something before then."

Draco nodded.

"Good," Hermione adopted her no nonsense study voice. "Now, I want to know what your last owl was about, Harry. Why did I have to wear all black today?"

Ron and Harry shared a conspiratorial grin, "We're going to Knockturn Alley!" Ron whispered.

"Nice," Draco smirked, perking up at last.

All eyes turned to Hermione as they prepared for her to try to talk them out of the trip.

"Fine, but only if we can restock our potions supplies while we're there, and I have to meet my parents at Flourish and Blotts in an hour."

The boys' mouths dropped at her lack of argument.

"What?" Hermione raised her eyebrows, "I'm curious about Knockturn Alley too you know, this will be very educational."

The boys groaned.

Harry tied the navy bandanna around his forehead and after a round of protests and a rainbow of blushes, Ron took Harry's shoulder-bag with a manly huff, and tucked into the washroom so he could slip on his black T-shirt.

"Ready, boys?" Harry planted a hand on his jutted out hip and surveyed the group.

"Ahem," Hermione corrected.

"Oh Hermione," Harry rolled his eyes, "'Boys' is just more fun to say."

It was with many a furtive glance that the four very conspicuously turned the corner into Knockturn Alley, attempting of course, to do so as inconspicuously as possible.

"Well that was smooth," Draco sneered.

"Oh hush," Harry blushed along with the others, "The shop I want is just here." He straightened his shoulders and opened the door with as much decorum as he could muster. A quick glance found the purple-eyed man at his post behind the counter, reading a large tome. He did not look up as they entered the store.

"Back with friends?" the silken voice danced.

"Actually," Harry batted his eyelashes, "I've was hoping you could tell me how much I could fetch for them on the black market?"

The man looked up from his book with a hearty laugh, and clapped his hands together in delight, "Again, you amuse me," he charmed.

Hermione's mouth noticeably dropped as the four caught their first look at the dazzling figure seated before them.

"Now, have you come to make Knight Bus arrangements?" the voice beguiled, "Or is there something else I can do for you?"

Harry chanced a shrug at his friends, he had really only wanted to peek at the handsome man again and enjoy the thrill of Knockturn Alley.

Draco lifted his chin and settled back into his usual self-important air, "We were looking for duelling holsters," he sneered and sniffed haughtily at the rack of holsters and wands to his left, two of the wands seemed to be smoking at the tip. "Preferably of a higher standard of craftsmanship than what you've got on display."

Harry nearly gasped at Draco's rudeness and a quick glance at Ron showed the boy's ears reddening in embarrassment, no Weasley had ever spoken to a merchant in such a manner.

"But of course," the man acquiesced with amusement, "I appreciate a customer with an eye for the trade." He drew his wand and chuckled lightly when both Harry and Ron edged in front of Hermione.

"Still green, I see," he glanced at Harry and Ron, "You show your weakness too easily."

"I'm not our weakness!" Hermione burst out, blushing hotly.

"Your competency is not in question, young lady," the man's eyes bore not into hers but Harry's, studying him so intensely Harry could hardly hold back a nervous titter.

"Oh kitty doodles!" Harry huffed, his heart racing in comprehension, "We've just told you who best to target if you want to nip at our tail-feathers."

The man raised a barely perceptible eyebrow in acknowledgement before circling his wand in a wide arc. The air seemed to shiver, and tremble before them and the racks of dank and smoking holsters and wands were replaced with gleaming and rather beautiful duelling equipment.

"It helps prevent theft," he winked at the group.

They wandered the store with unconcealed awe. Harry allowed himself a delighted intake of breath when the man strapped a gold and silver inlay, red dragonhide holster to his wrist, and demonstrated how ones wand fitted in and out.

Hermione nearly swooned when the same procedure was repeated with her.

Satisfied that the four students could navigate the store and holsters without damaging anything, he glided back to his post at the counter and returned, they assumed, to his ancient looking tome.

"How do we know how much these cost?" Ron whispered as the four huddled together, each having found a holster they greatly preferred not to part with.

"We don't," Draco sneered. He let out an exasperated snort and scooped the four holsters together. The Gryffindors watched as he haggled expertly with the purple-eyed man and finally exchanged some gold.

"Be very careful with this, Mr Cole," the man handed Ron the parcel of carefully wrapped holsters and gave Harry a business card as they left the shop.

After waving off their attempts to be paid back for the holsters Draco turned his arrogant sneer to Harry, "How do you know him anyway?" he questioned while being dragged into an apothecary reeking of putrefaction.

"Um …" Harry widened his eyes sheepishly but was saved the need to explain when Hermione began gushing over the vastly populated array of potions supplies.

"Boomslang skin, Powdered Unicorn Hooves, Root of Asphodel! I'd never find any of this in Diagon Alley," she nearly salivated at the rows of leaves, oils, powders, and roots. They restocked for the upcoming year - with numerous additions to the standard kit - and had to physically pull Hermione from the store before she added stacks of books to their purchases.

She cast a longing look back at the apothecary before perking up, "Flourish and Blotts, then!" she grinned.

To their surprise, they found a large bustling crowd jostling about outside the bookstore's entranceway. The line up consisted mainly of gussied up middle-aged witches - though a fair number of blushing wizards stood with a dreamy look to their eyes. All were holding copies of the same book, with a blond haired wizard tossing his hair dramatically on the cover. The reason for this became clear when one looked up and read the large banner stretched across the upper windows:

**GILDEROY LOCKHART**

will be signing copies of his autobiography

_MAGICAL ME_

today 12:30 P.M. to 4:30 P.M

"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!" Lockhart's books had indeed accounted for nearly the entire set of required school texts.

As none had a copy of Magical Me in hand, the four were allowed to squeeze through into the store, though they were reminded rather snootily that they would have to line up afterward if they desired an autograph.

The entire Weasley clan could be found inside, Arthur stood chatting with Mr and Mrs Granger, while Molly stood waiting in the autograph line with Ginny. The rest did as Harry, Ron, Draco, and Hermione were doing and milled about absently, looking for books.

"What's that you've got?" Ron asked as Harry squealed and reached for something in the magazine section.

"They carry 'Teen Beat' and 'Cosmopolitan!'" Harry's hand stopped mid-reach as something even more wondrous caught his eye. "G.W.Q.? Heavens to Betsey, Ron! Gentleman's Wizarding Quarterly! Oh! And it comes with the Muggle counterpart as well!"

"Harry!" Ron's ears began to burn, "That's, _you know_, an adult magazine. What if my mum catches you with it?"

Harry burst into a wave of squeals before he opened it up to show Ron the contents, "You're so freak-nasty, Ron!" he rolled his eyes, "It's just a fashion magazine for men." Teen Beat was left behind in lieu of Harry's more sophisticated interests.

"Aren't you getting any extra books?" Harry pouted.

"Nah," Ron grumbled.

"Ron," Harry whined, "We budgeted for these little extras, you don't have to - "

"It's not that," Ron snickered lightly, "You and Hermione read enough for the whole Gryffindor house, I don't have to do it too. Besides, I want to stop by Gambol and Japes' joke shop later."

They had just found Hermione and Draco and had begun looking for their actual school texts when a hush fell over the lively shop. The guest of honour had prowled into the room from the back, and now stood on a slightly raised platform in front of the table and chair he would be signing autographs from momentarily. After a brief pause, a round of applause and girlish squeals filled the store. Gilderoy had made quite an entrance, tossing his blond mass of gold spun curls and striking a jaunty pose for the camera, in his forget-me-not blue robes.

Draco rolled his eyes at Harry and Ron and then elbowed Hermione in the ribs just as a squeal of her own threatened to escape her lips. Lockhart's eyes were travelling across the crowd in a practised manner, he moved on from Hermione, to Draco, and then settled dangerously on Harry. He struck a second pose and shouted, "It can't be Harry Potter?"

Harry clapped his hands to his forehead in shock and remembered that he had long since removed his disguise. The crowd parted, whispering excitedly and Lockhart hitched up his blue robes in order to scramble off the platform and get to Harry's side. He grabbed Harry's arm and attempted to drag him to the front. Between Harry's dug in heels, and Draco and Ron pulling against Lockhart's grasp, Harry held firm.

"Come on!" the wizard muttered under his breath, "You and I are worth the front page!"

"Harry's worth the front page," Draco sneered, "You'd be riding his cloak-tails."

"Announce to the crowd that you're giving free sets of your school texts to me and my friends, and you'll get your cover shot," Harry whispered coyly. "Otherwise I'm going to kick you in the shins and tell the reporters about your capped teeth."

The blond wizard gasped slightly and had a hand halfway to his mouth before he caught himself. "Fine," he forced a grin between gritted caps.

Ron and Draco stepped back and Harry pranced happily to the raised platform with the seething ponce.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he said loudly, waving for quiet. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!

"When young Harry here -" Harry thousand-watt-grinned and winked at the flashbulbs that were snapping continuously, " - stepped into Flourish and Blotts today he had no idea that he would come face to face with his new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up this prestigious position at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

Harry heard the speech come to a close but he wasn't about to walk away without payment in full - and then some. He motioned for the cheering crowd to return to silence once again and then grinned cheekily at the beaming new professor.

"I've been sworn to secrecy but I can't allow such a kind gesture to go unnoticed. To commemorate his new post, Mr, that is, _Professor_ Lockhart is very generously footing the bill for all Hogwarts student texts sold during today's book-signing!"

The crowd gasped and stood in stunned silence before breaking into uproarious applause. Harry glanced at Lockhart and hugged the shocked man for the camera. He skipped away as parents and gushing witches rushed forward to shake the blond wizard's hand.

Harry rejoined his friends and the Weasleys at the checkout.

"I can't believe you weren't placed in Slytherin," Draco smirked.

"I can't believe you pulled that off!" Ron guffawed.

"I can't believe you did that to him!" Hermione exclaimed aghast. "I would have thought he'd have, well, caught your eye."

"Seriously, Cupcake," Draco smirked, "You were all weak in the knees in the holster shop, and we know you like blonds!"

"Lockhart's a store bought silicone pretty boy!" Harry flicked his wrist dismissively.

"Silicone?" Ron and Draco questioned.

"It means he's fake, like Leprechaun gold." Hermione explained with a giggle. "But who cares, Harry? He's still gorgeous."

"Besides," Ron snorted, "Aren't _you_ a pretty boy?"

"I am not!" Harry harrumphed, "Pretty boys are nice to look at but they haven't a lick of sex appeal. I'm just pretty."

"Harry!" Ron sputtered, "What do you know about s-e-x?"

"Sex _appeal_, Ron, not s-e-x. It's what gives you the shiver down your spine and the sweaty palms and the rubbery legs. The ladies in there were all ga-ga for Gilderoy but none of them looked like they would run off on their husbands to be Gilderoy's Girl. He's safe. Pretty boys are safe. Sex appeal ..." he trailed off with a shiver, "Well you're definitely not safe if you've got sex appeal."

"… So you think danger is sexy, then?" Draco asked.

"There are a thousand different ways to be sexy, and sure _some _people are sexy because they're dangerous." Harry sighed and hugged the bundle of holsters to his chest, "But if you _are_ sexy, you're dangerous anyway because people will risk all sorts of things to be with you. Sexy men are the ones the ladies run out on their husbands for."

"And Lockhart is just a safe pretty boy for married women to look at while they're making dinner for their husbands," Ron puzzled out.

"Ron!" Hermione scolded, "That's not what all married women do, you know!"

"It's what my mum does, and what the ladies in the store do too, I bet."

"And how do you know you're not just a pretty boy anyway?" Draco snorted.

"Did you see the holster mans purple eyes? They were smouldering. Pretty boys eyes don't do that, and mine may not do it yet but believe me, they will, and soon."


	5. The Whomping Willow

**Chapter 5 - The Whomping Willow**

The group hurried out of Flourish and Blott's with their coin pouches much heavier than they had anticipated, the free texts doing their budgets a world of good.

"You know, you never answered me earlier, Harry," Draco frowned, "How do you know that man?"

Both Harry and Ron's eyes widened fearfully as they saw the twins spill out of the book store.

"What man?" Fred questioned with a smirk.

"Hope you haven't been giving our Floo address to strange wizards, Harry," George guffawed.

"Gilderoy Lockhart," Hermione jumped in, sending Ron and Harry suspicious looks.

"Right," Draco drawled slowly, "He acted like you two knew each other."

"Oh no," Harry held back a sigh of relief, "He was just being polite."

The group raised their eyebrows as Mrs Weasley, now outside, let loose with a loud harrumph, "Polite!" she muttered, "It's more likely he was just feigning interest! That phoney!"

"What's Mum on about?" Ron exclaimed.

"Mum went to get her book signed -" Fred snickered.

"- and while she was busy giggling like a schoolgirl -" George continued.

" - Lockhart, I can't, I can't!" Fred doubled over in laughter, unable to continue the train of thought.

"He gave Dad the once over!" George finished.

Harry's eyes gleamed in triumph but he and Ron wisely bit their lips shut.

"I guess I'll be going then," Draco said a moment later, all traces of a smirk gone from his lips. "I have to meet Father soon."

"I thought we were going with you?" Ron frowned.

"You're so thick, Ron," Hermione rolled her eyes, "We need to decide who's going with whom, since Draco's father isn't supposed to know that I'm here as well."

Ron and Harry looked back and forth between Hermione and Draco and shrugged.

"I have to go to Madam Malkin's to get -"

"I'll go with Hermione!" Harry decided with glee.

Ron and Draco watched Harry skip down the cobbled streets dragging Hermione in tow.

"We've just been ditched for robes," Draco mused.

"Oh please, Malfoy," Ron snorted, "If you didn't have a broom to buy, I'd be standing here by myself right now."

oo00O00oo

"Harry," Hermione questioned hesitantly once they entered the robe-shop, "You know how you and Ron and Draco all have those fancy robes?"

"Uh-huh," Harry nodded, already knee deep in the hat section.

"Do you think it would look odd if I had the same done to mine?"

"Well yes, actually. You _are_ a girl you know," Harry giggled, and batted his eyelashes from under the woven sunbonnet he was trying on.

"Yes," Hermione paused, "But I'm part of the group too, aren't I?"

"Oh Hermione," Harry clapped his hands together, "Of course you are! I'm sure we can find a girls' style for you."

Hermione brightened, "How much do you think the extra tailoring will cost?"

"Cost?" Harry twirled a curl of his hair around his finger, "For a cutie like you, it'll cost a spool of thread and a chocolate frog, I did the tailoring myself."

"You did?" Hermione wowed.

"Well I did all of Ron's and some of Draco's anyway. I can do yours on the Hogwarts Express so you'll be all spiffed up for the feast."

"That'd be fantastic, Harry," Hermione beamed, "But how do you know how to do all this?"

"I picked it up here and there," Harry's smiled faltered, "I did lots of sewing with the Dursleys."

"Do you miss them?" Hermione smiled sympathetically, "You never talk about the Dursleys when we're at Hogwarts."

"Oh, nobody wants to hear about my relatives, it just reminds everyone about my being an orphan and they get that sad faraway look."

"The one reserved for tragic heroes?" Hermione giggled.

"Uh-huh," Harry nodded and rolled his eyes, "If they only knew!"

"They must be pretty neat though, the Dursleys." Hermione pulled at the hem of her shirt with a frown, "My parents always buy the most boring things. They think as long as you're neat and tidy, you're fashionable."

"Being fashionable is just icing on the cake, Hermione," Harry winked, "And as long as the cake is good, you don't even need the icing most of the time."

"Still," Hermione eyed Harry's over-dyed jeans wistfully,

"You know," Harry grinned slyly, "Your parents gave you money to get new robes today, right?"

"Well just for one new robe actually, my mum says I'll get a full set next year."

"After you get your boobies!" Harry leaned forward and with pursed shoulders, gave his nonexistent chest a burlesque worthy shake.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped. "Well, yes."

"_Well_, since you're expected to go home with bags from Madam Malkin's …"

"Yes?" Hermione returned his sly grin.

"Lets get girlie!"

oo00O00oo

Ron and Draco hurried ahead of Draco's father into the Leaky Cauldron, where they found Harry perched daintily at the bar with his right leg crossed over his left at the knee, sipping a fancy looking drink with an umbrella peeking out of the top.

"What's that?" Ron sniffed at the glass.

"A 'Virgin Snidget,'" Harry preened, "Perfect for innocent golden boys like myself."

Ron rolled his eyes and tasted it for himself.

"Fruity."

"Uh-huh!" Harry turned to Draco, "Where is it? What did you get?!"

"A Nimbus 2001," Draco smirked, "Father ordered it so you won't get to see it till we're back at Hogwarts."

"Maybe you'll be on the Slytherin team this year!" Harry exclaimed. "Poor Vincent and Gregory will just die if both of us are on the pitch at the same time!"

"As long as it's not my arms they're pinching black and blue, who cares?" Ron snorted. "You're looking at playing seeker, right, Malfoy?"

"Oh you can't!" Harry squealed, "Though, I suppose that's better than having you hurl bludgers at me."

"Think you can handle it when I beat you to the snitch?" Draco smirked.

"Fat chance, Malfoy," Ron grinned.

"Oh hush, Ron," Harry shushed, "Draco and I wouldn't care if we lost to each other, so long as neither of us lose to Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, right, Draco?"

"Right," Draco agreed with some relief.

A sudden slurping sound turned heads Ron's way, as the last drops of the Virgin Snidget disappeared up the straw.

"Hey!"

"You take forever and we've got to go," Ron chuckled, "Mum's here."

And indeed she, and the rest of the Weasley clan, had arrived. Mrs Weasley motioned the two boys over as one by one the others headed into the fireplace.

Ginny stepped forward to take her turn and gasped out loud as she tripped spectacularly over the complexity of her own two feet. Her now full to the brim cauldron flew out of her hands sending books and parchment, robes and robe-bags, and bundled packages cascading across the floor.

Amidst politely muted snickers, the senior Malfoy swept the cauldrons contents up into his arms with a flick of his wand, the robes even returning to their neatly folded condition and sliding back into their bags.

Ginny blushed furiously and stammered a thank you as he handed the cauldron back, piled high once again.

Lucius sneered haughtily and motioned her toward the fireplace. She stepped carefully and made it through without mishap.

Ron turned to Lucius with his own blush and nodded his thanks on Ginny's behalf before taking his turn in the Floo.

"You'll owl me," Draco near questioned.

"Is that a request or an order?" Harry giggled, "Of course I'll owl!" He hugged the pale boy and turned his thousand watt grin at Mr Malfoy. "It was a pleasure to meet you, sir," he beamed, before hurtling his way through the Floo Network and spilling out into the living room at the Burrow.

A door upstairs slammed seconds after he righted himself but as this had become a regular occurrence in the Weasley home, he barely batted an eyelash.

"Ginny?" Harry rolled his eyes.

"Who else?" Ron shrugged. "She was already halfway up the stairs by the time I came through."

The remaining holidays passed quickly after that. Harry caught two more glimpses of shirtless Weasley boys when he spent an afternoon hiding underneath the picnic tables, peeking out at Percy weeding the vegetable garden, and George trimming the hedges.

"No chance that your older brothers will visit before we leave for school?" Harry blinked innocently at Ron one afternoon, "Maybe they could help in the garden?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

As usual, Ginny spent most of the time after the Diagon Alley trip locked in her room, but the door had ceased to slam and she soon began coming down for family meals without the customary fuss.

"Could you pass the butter, please, Ginny?" Harry ventured one evening.

"Sure, Harry," she answered pleasantly before handing the butter plate across the table. Mr and Mrs Weasley smiled faintly, pleased with the lack of hostility in their daughter's voice. Even Ron and Percy, who had tensed at Harry's question, relaxed, relieved with Ginny's response. Across the table, however, was another story. Fred and George leaned back to share a look with each other behind Harry's head, before glancing to Harry himself to see if he had noticed anything unusual.

He had. He shivered slightly before thanking Ginny and felt the nudge from his left. He turned to Fred and shared his wide-eyed concern.

After dinner Harry rushed up to the room he shared with Ron. Before he could manage a word the door flew open and the room swelled with the crush of Fred and George, who managed without fail to make every room seem fuller than it was.

"What the heck was that about?" Fred burst out.

"Seriously, Harry, what did you do to Ginny?!" George added.

"Isn't it great?" Ron grinned, "You two finally made it up. I knew she'd come around."

"Made it up?" Harry squealed, "Didn't you see her at the table today?!"

"Honestly, Ron," Fred squinted in disbelief.

"She was downright scary!" George shook his head.

"She was fine," Ron frowned at his brothers. "That's the nicest thing she's said to Harry since he's been here."

"She didn't have to say anything -" George began,

"Her eyes said it all!" Fred finished in shock. "I half thought she was going to stab Harry with her fork!"

"I _did _think she was going to stab me with her fork!" Harry trembled. "She's given me some nasty looks before but not like today."

"Fess up, Harry,"

"Did you two have another fight?" George finished the question.

"No!" Harry pouted, "We had that argument the first night I got here, but we haven't spoken a word to each other since, until tonight when I asked for the butter."

"She's been acting weird all summer," Ron added, "Stealing the post I was sending to Harry and everything."

"And she didn't even know Harry then," Fred puzzled.

"But she knew he was my best friend and she's jealous."

The twins nodded.

"Seems she was lightening up these last couple weeks though," Fred frowned.

"Yeah," George agreed, "She hasn't slammed a door for ages."

Ron nodded, "I haven't heard it slam since that last one when we got back from Diagon Alley."

"And did you hear her at the table?" Fred continued.

"Ginny's never been able to lie like that," George agreed.

"Yeah," Fred added, "If she's angry, normally the whole house hears about it."

"Maybe it's just a girl thing?" Ron wondered. "Maybe all girls are crazy just before they come to Hogwarts?"

"I don't know any girls to act like that," George disagreed.

The boys shared a puzzled shrug.

"Everything will get better when we're at school," Ron nodded to himself, "She'll make new friends and forget all about this."

"Right," the twins agreed.

Harry nearly overslept the morning they were to return to Hogwarts, having stayed up late with Mrs Weasley baking treats for the train ride as well as a surprise that made Molly 'aww,' and that Harry hoped Ron wouldn't ever hear about.

"Will we be Flooing to King's Cross?" Harry asked as Mrs Weasley loaded him up with toast and jam.

"Floo? Oh heavens no," Mrs Weasley smiled, "We'll be taking the car."

"The car!" Harry puzzled. There was indeed a small Ford Anglia in the garage. It was common knowledge among Harry and the Weasleys that Mr Weasley had been magically tinkering with the various parts, so that it could now fly, among other things. Mrs Weasley turned a blind eye so long as none of the magical modifications would ever actually be put to use. Without magic - and a great of it at that - there wasn't nearly enough room for the modified set of Weasleys in the car, and certainly not enough for the Weasleys, a Potter, six large trunks, two owls and a rat. "But that's impossible!" Harry exclaimed.

Mr Weasley hurried Harry out of the kitchen with a quick, "No, no, we'll get there in plenty of time," and led him into the garage where the Anglia sat waiting, the twins shovelling their luggage into the boot. With a grin Arthur pointed for Harry to look. The boot had been magically expanded so that the luggage fitted easily. "Not a word to Molly," he grinned again at Harry and winked at the twins.

At last they were all seated comfortably in the spacious yet outwardly tiny car, and after two departures and subsequent returns for forgotten items, and then a third when just shy of reaching the highway Ginny screeched to high heaven that she would throw herself out of the car if they didn't return for her diary, they were on their way, though running very late. With a mad dash for trolleys once arriving at Kings Cross, the group hurried inside and made it through the barrier at Platform 9 and 3/4 and onto the train just in the nick of time.

"Can you believe we're in second year, Ron?" Harry squealed.

"Think you can make it the whole way through without somebody trying to kill you?" Ron snorted.

"One can hope."

"Ah second year," Fred said dreamily, as the Hogwarts Express began to pull away.

"The year for first loves," George continued just as dreamily.

"First kisses,"

"Kisses?" Harry squealed, nearly dropping the end of his trunk with excitement. "You had your first kiss in second year? With who? With George? I'll bet it was George, wasn't it?!"

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed, red-faced, and forcibly dragged him down the aisle, "You can't say that, they're brothers!"

"No they're not!" Harry pouted indignantly, "They're twins, it's different!"

They made their way down the train until they found Hermione sitting in wait in an otherwise empty compartment. A blond head peered in soon after, and stepped inside.

Draco nodded to Ron then turned to the remaining Gryffindors, "Hey Cupcake, Harry," he greeted and settled into the compartment.

"Hi Draco," Harry and Hermione replied in unison, before both Harry and Ron turned to Hermione and Draco with puzzled expressions.

"Draco isn't really supposed to write to muggleborn girls, is he?" Hermione rolled her eyes, "So he calls me 'Harry' in his letters just in case his father peeks in."

"I guess it stuck," Draco shrugged.

"Right," Ron snorted, "Hermione Granger: Boy-Who-Lived."

"I was still Harry when we met in Diagon Alley," Harry pouted.

Hermione and Draco shared a look and Draco nodded slightly. He moved to the door and turned the bolt locking them inside, while Hermione cleared her throat as if readying for a speech.

"You're right, Harry, and I suppose that's because Draco and I have been exchanging owls more frequently since we came back from Diagon Alley. We've come to a few conclusions and would like it if you could explain a few things."

"We know you're both keeping secrets from us!" Draco fumed, "And -"

"Draco!" Hermione huffed, "We had this planned!"

"The speech sounds stupid out loud," he sneered, "And it's just giving them time to make up a cover story. How did you know that purple-eyed man?"

Hermione huffed at Draco before continuing the questions, "And I'm sure he mentioned something about making Knight Bus arrangements."

"And why were you in Knockturn Alley in the first place?"

Harry's mouth dropped and he was met with a shrug when he looked to Ron for assistance.

"Er …" he stalled with a giggle. "… Um …"

"Harry!"

"Well, it's all very innocent, really." Harry batted his eyelashes at his friends. "I was going to spend the second half of the summer with the Weasleys and since the Dursleys aren't connected to the Floo and we had no idea how else to get to a wizarding house and I had to go to Gringott's anyway …"

"You tricked your aunt into taking you into Knockturn Alley," Hermione finished with a stunned gasp.

"Uh-huh," Harry nodded, "But she was a bit … well … ready to poop with fright, so we scooted into a shop to get directions and met the purple-eyed man. And I wound up taking the Knight Bus instead."

"And that's everything?" Draco questioned.

"Uh-huh."

"You didn't have to keep that a secret, Harry," Hermione admonished, "But really, taking your aunt into Knockturn Alley!"

"It wasn't a secret, you've just never asked about it until now."

"I asked that day in Diagon," Draco argued.

"Yes, but I couldn't very well answer honestly in front of Ron's parents!"

"Mum would have kittens if she knew any of us had been to Knockturn," Ron added truthfully.

"You do know that you really shouldn't be taking advantage of the Dursleys like that, right, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, Hermione," Harry sing-songed.

"Though it is hard not to, isn't it?" she smiled. "I know it's terrible but I told my mum that the things we bought at Madam Malkin's that day were necessities in a witches wardrobe, that a witch wasn't presentable without them. And my parents are still so excited about me having magic and they so want me to fit in here that they never question things like that … I guess it's different for you though. The Dursleys must have known you were a wizard right off the bat because of your mum so it wouldn't be so exciting for them."

"Right," Harry agreed quietly.

"And they already knew all about the wizarding world."

"Right."

"And I guess they really are like your own parents, I mean, you've been with them so long that if they didn't tell you that you were a Potter, you'd never know you weren't a Dursley."

"Right."

"So I suppose your tricking your aunt isn't as bad as I think it is."

"Right."

"I'm sorry Harry," Hermione chided herself. "It's just, well, you know how different the muggle world is from the wizarding world and the Dursleys are so neat about everything. At my school, the boys who were, well, you know, they'd get teased and their parents would force them to play football and such, hoping they'd become more like the other boys. But the Dursleys are really supportive about that … I don't know a lot of muggle parents who would buy their sons pretty handbags like yours, and it just seems terrible to me to trick them."

"I," Harry started, " … Right …"

The compartment grew very quiet after that with Harry not knowing what to say and hoping his watering eyes didn't spill over, Ron listening in horror and not knowing how to stop it, and Draco narrowing his eyes speculatively knowing something didn't sound quite right.

"Well," Draco smirked at last, "That whomped my willow." He narrowed his eyes again at the aghast looks on the Gryffindors' faces. "What?! If Harry said that no one would bat an eyelash."

Soon Harry and Draco were poring over Harry's copy of GWQ, Draco pointing out items his father owned and Harry making note of things he could sew himself.

"That'd be good under that vest you wear," Draco remarked.

"The leather one?" Hermione looked up from her school text.

Draco nodded.

Hermione slumped in her seat, "My mother would never buy me something like that."

"I made it myself," Harry thrust out his chest proudly.

"Really?" Hermione exclaimed.

"Uh-huh," Harry beamed, "It was from an old Hallowe'en costume of Dudley's, when he dressed up as a cowboy. He's terribly fat so had tons of material to make things."

"A cowboy?" Draco mused.

"It's a baby centaur," Ron explained smartly.

"Um," Hermione shared a grin with Harry, "Right."

"What have we got to eat?" Ron, pleased with his far-reaching knowledge, turned eagerly now to content his stomach.

"Your mum and I baked cookies for the ride," Harry grinned.

"No, not those, I've seen you bake before, and it doesn't take you half the night to make cookies." Ron gestured eagerly, "You made something fancy, in the box."

Harry blushed and mumbled, "We can't eat it."

"Why not?" Ron frowned.

"It's for later."

"Later? Later we'll be so stuffed from the feast we won't be able to stand."

"No … _later_, later."

"Later when? Oh!" Ron understood. He leaned over and whispered, "It's a cake for Hermione's birthday, right?"

"Not exactly," Harry mumbled.

"Not exactly? Well then lets eat it!" Ron prodded again.

"It's … um," Harry muddled incoherently, blushing Weasley red. "It's for Professor Snape."

"Snape?" Ron choked, "Wha, but, WHAT?!"

"It's a thank you gift, he did save my life last year, you know, more than once." Harry frowned, "Besides, maybe the soufflé will help him not hate me so much."

Ron, Hermione, and Draco cast disbelieving looks at each other.

"Harry," Hermione adopted her reasoning with a madman tone, "Professor Snape may have saved you a couple of times, but that won't stop him from probably throwing that cake at you."

"Actually," Draco smirked, "You'll be lucky if that's all he does."

"Actually," Harry grinned sheepishly, "_You'll_ be lucky if that's all he does, Draco. I can't very well give it to him at the feast, and it'll be easier for you to find him afterwards. He is your head of house, after all."

"You have got to be kidding!" Draco stormed.

"And, I thought it would be good for you to talk to him about our Dobby Dark Lord Hogwarts monster problem, since we still haven't figured out what to say to Dumbledore."

Draco groaned.

Ron smirked, "You can tell Snape that your house-elf knows another house-elf that thinks there's a monster being set loose."

"And we'll talk to Hagrid as soon as we can too," Harry added to everyone's agreement. "He knows all about different monsters."

The rest of the ride was spent tailoring Hermione's robes, wandering through the train to find their other friends, catching Neville and the brutes up on the new Dark Lord situation, and arguing with Ron over eating Snapes' soufflé. Though his reasoning was rather sound; if the cake was ultimately going to be thrown at Draco or Harry or into the garbage, it hardly seemed rude for them to have eaten a slice or two first.

The fashionably attired group made their way off the train, stopping for Harry and Hermione to get bone-crushing hugs from Hagrid, and Ron and Draco to lose an inch of height while being patted on the head. They hurried off to be carted to the school by carriage, but not before asking if they could come for a visit sometime over the weekend.

Harry cheered along with the Weasleys and the rest of the table when after an unreasonably lengthy sit under the Sorting Hat, Ginny was placed in Gryffindor, though he was the recipient of yet another vicious glare once she had taken her seat at the table.

After dinner had finished and the school song had been sung, the first years were hustled to their dormitories, and the upper years trickled in behind them with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville stopping to say goodnight to their Slytherin cohorts.

"Don't dawdle!" Harry urged, "Or you'll miss him!"

"Monsters or not, you owe me for this," Draco glared at the boxed soufflé in his arms. "And Slytherins always collect!"

Once within Gryffindor territory the boys parted ways with Hermione and hurried up the staircase on the other side of the common room, bustling all the way to the top where the door to their old dormitory now read SECOND YEARS.

Harry frowned sadly once he had reached his bed, he had grown used to the nightmare free nights at Ron's side. He glanced up to Ron hopefully.

"Harry we can't," Ron groaned, glancing at the other boys in the room watching them with puzzled faces.

"Please?"

"Everyone will laugh," Ron muffled.

"No they won't!" Harry pouted, "I bet everyone would prefer that I not have _terrible terrible _nightmares."

Ron's shoulders slumped in defeat, "That was low."

"I know," Harry agreed gleefully as they moved their nightstands to the ends of their beds. Harry's four poster scraped across the floor as they wrestled it next to Ron's.

"That's not fair!" Neville burst into sobs.

"Neville," Harry gushed, "Whatever are you talking about?"

Neville turned to Ron instead, "I hate the night-time, you both know that," he sobbed again, "But you're sharing with Harry and I have to stay by myself!"

Harry and Ron exchanged a look.

Harry pouted, "He'd be on my other side, you'd still have an end to yourself."

"Fine!" Ron scowled and pulled Neville's nightstand to the end of the bed. The three of them edged Neville's bed over to connect with the already adjoined two. "Anyone else?" he snapped sarcastically.

Dean and Seamus shrugged at each other before pushing their own nightstands out of the way and connecting to the three beds.

"One big happy, and all that," Seamus grinned.

"Bloody hell," Ron groaned again, "Everybody had better keep their hands to themselves!"

"And not like _that_ either!" Ron exclaimed once met with four easily complying grins.


	6. Gilderoy Lockhart

**Chapter 6 - Gilderoy Lockhart**

When the boys awoke the next morning, Harry found himself tangled in his, Ron's, and Neville's sheets and blankets. Neville had Seamus' blanket woven into the mix, and Dean's coverings on Seamus' other side only added to the confusion.

"Did everybody sleep well?" Harry giggled.

"Uh-huh," Neville beamed happily. Dean and Seamus looked over with a grin and nodded. Ron scowled at all of them for a moment before rolling his eyes and grinning as well.

The boys made their way to the Great Hall and were surprised to find Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle sitting with Hermione at the Gryffindor table, already tucking in.

"Professor Snape kicked you out of Slytherin!" Harry wailed.

"He may as well have!" Draco grumbled as Harry, Ron, and Neville settled in around him.

The group turned as one to scan the head table, finding the potions master sitting no more or less dour-faced than was usual … until he locked eyes on Harry and Draco, and sent a shiver down both their spines with a spectacularly vicious glare.

"Harry Potter," Draco scowled, "When I collect on this, it's going to be big."

"What happened?" Harry asked, "Did he throw it at you?"

"I wish!" Draco cast a glare at the head table. "He lectured close to an hour about how proud my father will be to hear I've gained the position of 'Messenger boy' for the Boy-Who-Lived. Me! As if he wasn't the one running around like a lackey, saving the Boy-Who-Lived's life. He should blame himself for your damn soufflés, not me!"

Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes at Draco's bit of logic. "I take it he didn't have any," Harry asked.

"How would I know?" Draco huffed, "He threw me out of his office after giving me detention, me! Now my father's going to get a bloody owl about how I gave my head of house a bloody cake. And I can't very well tell Father about Snape saving Harry's life without mentioning the Dark Lord, can I? Do you know what my father's going to think?!"

The group's attempts to hide their giggles and snickers at Draco's predicament were very much in vain and even Crabbe and Goyle were hiding grins.

"This isn't funny!"

With no small degree of daring, Neville winked at Hermione and the brutes across the table and giggled nervously, "And you still have to ask Professor Snape about the _you know what_, don't you?"

Draco glared at the group now openly giggling around him. "A Malfoy will not be made a fool of-" He stopped and groaned, "Oh bother. This is exactly what Father said would happen if I spent too much time with _you_, Weasley!"

Soon Professor McGonagall was handing out the Gryffindor timetables - with a handful of Slytherin one's thrown in for good measure.

Ron groaned, "First day of class and we've already got that shiny ponce!"

"Think he'll have it in for you, Cupcake?" Draco smirked.

"Can't be worse than Quirrell."

The group split up and the Gryffindors followed Neville out to the much vaunted greenhouse number three for Herbology, their first lesson of the year, which would be taken with the Hufflepuffs.

"Do we know any Hufflepuffs?" Hermione questioned.

"Rotten at Quidditch, we know that."

"Ron!" Harry chastised with a giggle, swatting the larger boy's arm. "I'll have you know that Hufflepuff boys have the nicest muscles of any house."

"Harry!" Hermione gasped. "Is that true?"

They hustled into the greenhouse to find Professor Sprout standing behind a trestle bench, which was covered with about twenty pairs of different-coloured earmuffs. When the class had all settled in their seats she said, "We'll be re-potting mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the mandrake?"

Ron and Harry shared a quick smirk when Hermione's hand shot into the air. Their eyebrows shot up in surprise when they saw that Neville's hand was already there.

"Mandrakes," Neville stopped and cleared his throat nervously, "Um, mandrakes are used to put people back to normal if they've been cursed or transfigured. It's in lots of antidotes, especially in potions."

"Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout. "As essential as they are, the mandrake can also be very dangerous. Who can tell me why?"

Neville's cheeks went red but his hand went back up, alongside Hermione's. Harry stuck his tongue out at the both of them and put up his hand as well. The three students turned to the only one of their group not volunteering.

"Oh bother," he mumbled before half-heartedly adding a half-raised hand to the mix.

"Mr Weasley," Professor Sprout called.

"Er," Ron blushed, "If you hear the mandrake you'll die?"

"Well done, another ten points for Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout.

"See, Ron?" Harry giggled under his breath, "Knowing stuff isn't completely ghastly."

The group was soon at a loss for one of their senses, having had their ears covered in magical earmuffs. After watching Professor Sprout demonstrate, they turned four to a tray to un-pot and re-pot the purplish humanoid mandrake plants.

Harry forced his face into his best angelic puppy dog eyes and sent it Neville's way full force.

"Too late," Neville giggled silently, sending Harry into an even deeper pout. The two had made quite a scene fighting over a pair of pink fluffy earmuffs, a battle won with Neville's positively Slytherin 'pink isn't good with your eyes' comment.

The two made it up easily in Professor McGonagall's class when Neville turned to Harry for help with his beetle to button transformation.

"I'll help you," Harry grinned wickedly, "But …"

"You can wear the pink ones next time!"

"Oh ease up, Harry," Ron added, "The black muffs looked good on you."

"Really?" Harry gushed, before being shushed by Professor McGonagall's approach. She peered over the table at his results.

"You've managed a change but this is a rosebud, Mr Potter."

"Oh no," Harry said, "It's a button, see it has hooks on the back for fasteners. They're so much nicer than conventional buttons, don't you think so Professor?"

"Let's try for a conventional button today, Mr Potter."

They went down for lunch and sent the first year girls into screaming fits when the transfigured black buttons Neville had saved re-grew legs and began racing across the table.

Once finished, the Gryffindors hurried outside into the overcast courtyard to wait for their Slytherin counterparts.

Hermione sat with Lockhart's Voyages with Vampires open in front of her.

"I can't believe you're reading that again," Ron groaned.

"It really isn't bad," she said. "It's like an adventure tale. Not as informative as a standard text but at least he has some experience."

Ron snorted and turned to Harry, pausing mid-comment as he noticed a very small - smaller than Harry - mousy-haired boy, staring at Harry as though transfixed.

"Oh bother," he muttered, "Not another one."

He nudged Harry and pointed him toward the entranced boy. The moment Harry looked at him, he went bright red and seemed to tremble slightly at the knee.

"All right, Harry? I, erumph, I'm Colin Creevey," he said breathlessly, taking a tentative step forward. "I'm in Gryffindor too."

"Hi Colin," Harry offered a hand to the nervous boy and smiled politely. "Do you like it here at Hogwarts?"

"Like it? I love it! Everyone's so friendly here, and everybody knows magic and nobody minds if things explode sometimes. I didn't know anything about magic until I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman so he didn't know anything about it either. We just thought I was real clumsy or something. And then we went to buy my things and Professor Lockhart was there, can you believe someone famous teaches one of our classes? And then all of my books were free! And you were there and now you're here. I go to school with celebrities! It's like going to the same school as Prince William or something."

Harry smothered a giggle and raised his eyebrows at Ron, who was already choking on his muffled laughter.

"Do you have your own security?" Colin asked in a hush, his eyes darting around the courtyard.

"Security?" Ron broke in with a snort. "I guess that's me, Ron Weasley, you must have met my sister Ginny, she was sorted into Gryffindor last night too. That's Neville, Harry's herbologist, and that's Hermione, she'd be Harry's private tutor."

"Ron!" Hermione protested, before setting Colin straight. "My parents are Muggles too," she added. "I didn't know anything about magic until my Hogwarts letter either."

"I'm taking loads of pictures to send home." The now blushing boy held up what looked like an ordinary muggle camera. "A boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll move. Do you think I could get one of you, Harry? And then one of us together? And another of you and Ron and Hermione, and Neville? And then after, when it's moving and everything, maybe you could sign it?"

"_Signed photos_? You're giving out _signed photos_, Cupcake?" Loud and smirking, Draco's voice echoed around the courtyard. He and the brutes had arrived and had stopped right behind Colin.

"That's Malfoy," Ron grinned wickedly, "Harry's messenger boy."

Colin's eyes went wide while Draco turned a livid red and began damning soufflés, his head of house, and the Weasley family all in the same breath. He calmed immediately upon noticing Colin's prone camera, and passed a hand over his hair ensuring each strand's obedience.

"We're having our pictures done, then?" he asked. Colin nodded and began arranging the now full group of friends. Draco and Ron took their place on Harry's either side, with Hermione ducking in beside Draco, while Neville, Crabbe, and Goyle - looking very pleased to be included - formed a second row and crouched in close. Familiar with the muggle contraption, Hermione snapped the shot of Colin and Harry together. Then Colin began searching out the perfect spot for Harry's solo. He settled on a corner of the courtyard, waited while Harry checked his appearance in his compact mirror, and snapped two careful shots of the Boy-Who-Lived, capturing both the 'angelic charmer,' and 'mysterious hero' visages Harry most enjoyed.

"Gather 'round everybody," Draco cried out in a mock shout, noticing the curious looks they were receiving from the other students outdoors. "Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, will be available for photos for the next five minutes, now's your chance, everyone!"

Hermione's eyes bulged before she shushed Draco's antics a second too late.

"What's all this, what's all this?" Gilderoy Lockhart was striding toward them, his turquoise robes swirling behind like a flag in the wind. "Who's having a photo shoot?"

"We've finished, sir," Hermione answered.

"I was just getting a picture of Harry," Colin added looking crestfallen at the thought that he may have got Harry into trouble. "You'll still sign it for me, Harry?"

Harry nodded while glancing warily at the encroaching Lockhart.

"Ah, we meet again, Harry," Lockhart thundered jovially, and flung an arm around Harry's shoulders. "Come on then, Mr Creevey, a double portrait, can't do better than that, and we'll _both_ sign it for you."

Colin fumbled for his camera and reddened, "I've just finished the roll," he mumbled apologetically. Harry felt Lockhart's grip tighten almost painfully around his shoulders. The bell rang behind them signalling the start of afternoon classes.

"Off you go, move along there," Lockhart called to the crowd now hurrying toward the castle, and he set off as well with Harry still clasped to his side and his friends in tow.

Lockhart grinned through gritted teeth and said, "Let me just say, Harry, that giving away signed pictures at this stage of your career isn't sensible -"

"Professor Lockhart is right, Harry," Draco jumped in, "People would pay good money for a signed photo of you. Handing them out free will just lower the value later on." He smirked at Harry and escaped with Crabbe and Goyle to the Slytherins' class.

Lockhart's grip on Harry's shoulder increased.

"Come on Harry," Ron tugged on Harry's other arm.

"We want to make sure we get good seats, sir," Neville added sheepishly. The four Gryffindors hurried down the hall away from Lockhart and didn't slow down until they had reached Lockhart's classroom where they snagged seats on the far end in the very last row.

"Poor Colin," Hermione smiled, "I think he might have cried if you had got into trouble, Harry."

"What's with you muggle raised wizards anyway?" Ron snorted, "I swear that kid is even daintier than you are!"

"Well I never!" Harry harrumphed, "Being raised in the hostile muggle world can wreak havoc on ones magical constitution! Tell him, Hermione," he sassed with a finger snap.

"My only friends were found in books," she answered wistfully. She pretended to wipe away a tear before the group erupted in giggles.

Lockhart swept in and struck a jaunty pose, reminiscent of his book signing at Flourish and Blotts.

"I," he paused dramatically, "Am Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five-time winner of _Witch Weekly's_ Most-Charming-Smile Award, but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by _smiling_ at her!"

"Bet you could have," Ron was heard muttering. It may not have been blinding enough to take down a banshee, but between Lockhart's twinkling eyes and sparking teeth, Neville's left eye had begun to twitch, and the other students didn't seem far behind. The class found a reprieve from Lockhart's bodily strobe light when he handed out a rather lengthy quiz.

Harry rolled his eyes at the first few questions but nearly shrieked when he reached number nine:

In your opinion, what is Gilderoy Lockhart's most admirable characteristic? Site examples.

A quick glance found Ron openly gaping at the parchment, and then craning his neck to see past Harry to Hermione's test. Harry giggled under his breath and scribbled down his response -

_'Gilderoy Lockhart is admirable for many reasons but first and foremost, he's a gentleman who is known for dazzling the witches, even though everybody knows he really prefers wizards.'_

- then nudged Hermione to give her a peek.

Hermione tut-tutted her disapproval, but had to press her lips into a McGonagally thin line to keep from giggling.

Seeing the professor busy at his desk with an ornate hand held mirror, Harry leaned over to give Neville and Ron a chance to peek at his answers. Both boys eyes' glinted before they were huddled back over their tests, and were soon nudging Seamus and Dean in front of them with a sly grin.

Harry felt a light poke in his side and turned to see Neville looking nervous and holding his test with his quill angled to point at question number twelve:

In your opinion, what is Gilderoy Lockhart's most distinctive feature and why?

_'Professor Lockhart's most distinctive feature is his hair, spun gold with grey at the temples. The gold is very dashing, and the grey makes him look trustworthy, just like my gran.'_

Harry grinned and nodded eagerly at the now very pleased round-faced boy, and indicated for Ron to look as well.

Later, Dean leaned back with his paper turned up for the boys to see, his quill tapping question twenty-six:

In your opinion, how can you tell that Gilderoy Lockhart is a master of Defence?

_'Professor Lockhart is clearly a master of Defence, you can tell because of the wrinkles around his eyes. You only get wrinkles like that from staring down monsters in battle, which make them a mark of someone not to be reckoned with.'_

Harry made little 'peep peep' sounds as he tried to hold back his laughter; Neville choked and fell off his seat.

"I just said he was a pompous old fraud who wasn't fooling anyone," Ron whispered to Harry with a frown, "You think I should add something else?"

"Tell him he should be ashamed of himself for checking out your father, because everybody knows Mr Weasley is already happily married," Harry eeked back amidst his giggles.

Half an hour from the start of the quiz, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class. Hermione tried to keep her eyes on her desk but peeked up just in time to see the brightly robed man blanch and reach a frantic hand to his face where he patted the corners of his eyes. He flipped through each paper, the bulge of his eyes and the pallor of his skin increasing as he touched various parts of his face and hair.

The twinkling man stood silently, and finally as the students began to fidget, he seemed to shake himself. He bent down behind the desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.

With a gravely voice that showed less than half his normal count of visible teeth, he said, "Now, be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."

Harry reddened and shared guilty looks with the other boys. They had just played a mean trick on the man without first giving him a chance to show his stuff. Hermione tut-tutted under breath and let her eyebrows clearly say 'I told you so.'

Lockhart looked around the room and saw he had their rapt attention. "I must ask you not to scream," he continued, his voice low and dramatic now that he had regained his confidence. "It might provoke them."

The class held its collective breath and Lockhart whipped off the cover.

"Yes," he breathed, "_Freshly caught Cornish pixies_."

As one, the Gryffindor boys turned to smirk at Hermione. The ponce was a ponce once more.

"Bloody hell," Ron added under his breath.

"Right, then," Lockhart said to the smirking class, "Let's see what you make of them!" and he opened the cage.

It was pandemonium. Hermione smartly made a grab for her things and huddled under the desk, followed quickly by Harry and Ron, both of whom had to grab hold of Neville and PULL when two of the pixies attempted to hoist him up by the ears.

Soon the entire class had retreated under their desks, hurriedly stuffing their texts and quills into their book-bags.

"Fear not, class, just follow my lead," Lockhart shouted, rolling up his sleeves. He brandished his wand and bellowed, "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!" … to absolutely no effect. To the class' dismay, Lockhart gulped and dove under his own desk.

"Bollocks this," Ron cursed, "Let's get out of here." He pushed Hermione ahead of him, then grabbed Harry by one hand and Neville by the other and pulled the two boys out from under the desks and toward the doors.

They had just reached the exit and were moments from their escape when Hermione paused at the door and turned back, ignoring the boys' aghast looks and allowing the other students to edge around them. With a wave of her wand she pointed at a rampaging pixie and repeated Lockhart's incantation. The pixie froze in its place then settled down on top of a desk for a nap.

Hermione's mouth dropped open.

"Ten points, Miss Granger!" Lockhart announced, he squeezed out from under his desk and made for the door. "And another ten points to each of you for nipping the rest of them back into their cage." And with that he slammed the door, closing them in with the pixies.

With a shrug, Harry pulled out his wand and gave the incantation a go, with similar results to Hermione. It took two tries before Ron achieved the desired result and four tries for Neville, but in no time at all the pixies were asleep and being transferred easily into the cage.

"What do you think," Ron snorted when they made their escape. "Worse than Quirrell?"

"Yep," Neville answered.

"I don't understand how he managed to do all the things in his books," Hermione frowned turning very serious. "Does he just keep getting lucky or did he make all of it up?"

"Maybe he really did smile them to death," Harry rolled his eyes. "He probably just made it up. I mean really, how many wizards have fought a real banshee? He could say whatever he wanted in his books and nobody would know the difference."

"Well that doesn't help us any," Hermione griped. "Don't you think we should actually be learning some defensive magic? I bet other magic schools have proper defence teachers, we'll wind up behind!"

"Aww," Ron groaned, "Lighten up Hermione. Think of all the extra studying you'll get to do for your other classes when we're busy not learning anything with Lockhart."

"I don't know, Ron," Harry pouted, "What if something happens one day and we're all by ourselves and it turns out we don't know a single defensive spell because our professors were doody heads?"

Ron blanched with the realisation that with Harry's homeless summers he might well need to know some proper magic. "What are we supposed to do then?"

"I'm sure we could get an idea of what we're supposed to know from the library," Hermione suggested, "And I bet if Draco asked his father to send some proper books, we could learn a few … extras."

"So long as the books Malfoy's dad sends aren't full of dark curses that get us all expelled."

After another night of pleasant dreams for the Gryffindor boys, Harry arrived at the Great Hall and was pleased as punch to receive his first owl post of the year.

_Hello Little Dainty_, said Hagrid's untidy scrawl, _why don't you all come by Saturday afternoon for tea?_

Harry caught Hagrid's eye at the head table and waved and nodded his agreement.

"What have we got today?" Ron asked, though the dread in his voice said that he already knew.

"Double potions," Hermione answered.

Ron contorted his face into a grimace before perking up wickedly. "At least Professor Snape is ticked at Malfoy too, that'll take some of the heat off of us for a couple of lessons I'd say."

Professor Snape, however, proved to have reserves at the ready, and was able without lessening the impact, to have full disdain and vitriol for any number of recipients.

Neville's knees were shaking by the time he had to retrieve the days ingredients.

Ron's ears were so red heat emanated from them.

Draco was seething by the end of class.

Harry, however, felt strangely at home. It had been over a year since he had to sit through a Vernon Dursley tirade and he was glad to know that his tolerance for loud ornery blowhards had not subsided.

"Get out of my sight, class dismissed," Snape announced, minutes before the bell had rung.

The class shared a collective, audible, sigh of relief, and most scrambled to get the hell out of there before Snape changed his mind.

"Professor Snape?" Harry peeped, his words were echoed by two groans as Ron and Draco turned from the doors, missing their escape. "Have you tried the soufflé yet, sir?"

"What do you take me for?" Snape spat. "I'm not some member of your imbecilic fan club, jumping at the chance to be in your presence. Nor am I blind to your golden boy façade. Did you really think you would get away with this?"

"Er … " Harry gaped and shrugged at his friends staring blankly back at him. He gave his shoulders the teeniest shimmy to gather his resolve. "Well if you're not going to eat it, can I have it back?" he ventured. After years of never having enough to eat at the Dursleys', he could hardly bear the thought of good food going to waste.

"Do you think I don't know what I'm holding here?" Snape sneered. "You think you're clever enough to fool me, that perhaps I haven't realised that this is a prank? The kind of prank that could get you expelled? Such arrogance," he scoffed. "It seems to increase in each generation. You will get this cake back, when the Board of Governors convenes to officiate your expulsion."

Harry gaped in puzzlement before it finally clicked. "You think this is some sort of trick, that if you eat it it'll give you the runs or turn you polka dotted or something." Harry let out an exasperated sigh. "Well it isn't, it's a soufflé! A good one too, I made it myself. To say thank you, you know, for saving my life last year."

Snape continued to glare.

"Goodness, we were so terrible to you! We thought _you_ were the one trying to kill me, you know, because you're so awful all the time and you hate me so much? But really you saved my life when Quirrell and that ugly old Yoo Hoo were after me."

"You expect me to believe that you're trying to thank me?" the Professor spat.

"I'd expect a normal person to recognise a thank you when it's right in front of him!" Harry exploded, "Draco went out of his way, knowing all the while that you'd embarrass him, just so he could give you the soufflé I spent _all night baking_, because I'm his best friend and you _saved my life_!"

"Then you've brought gifts for all the professors involved in last year's debacle?" he sneered. "Professors McGonagall and Flitwick at least."

"Um," Harry blushed, "No Professor Snape, but they didn't save my life the way you did."

"No, no, that hardly seems _fair._ I'll escort you to the staff room where all your favourite professors can enjoy your gift. The Headmaster himself is known for his sweet tooth." Snape's mouth twisted into either a snarl, or perhaps his attempt at a grin.

"Mr Malfoy, surely you have things to do before lunch. Ten points Mr Weasley, I dismissed the class minutes ago. Mr Potter, follow me."

Harry scampered after Professor Snape both indignant and anxious.

"It's really good of you to share, Professor Snape," Harry ventured in an attempt to eke out what the vicious man had in store for him.

Professor Snape snorted, "They can hardly defend you when the entire staff breaks out in hives, or whatever the blasted cake is cursed with."

"What?" Harry gaped, "You're going to feed the professors a cake you think is cursed?"

"How better to convince the staff that their golden boy is nothing more than a delinquent menace?"

"I thought you were just going to embarrass me for not having thanked the other professors properly!" Harry said, "How do I know you haven't jinxed it yourself just to get me into trouble?"

"If that is to be your defence Mister Potter," Snape sneered, "I assure you, it is a weak one, even for you."

Harry seethed under his breath but forced himself into his best wide-eyed angelic look once they arrived at the staff room - just in case.

There were only a handful of people in the room, Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore among them.

"Mister Potter?" Professor McGonagall's lips went thin.

Harry forced himself into a shy grin, "Don't worry Professor, I'm not in any trouble," he pouted and looked up wide-eyed, "Well not really." He turned his gaze up to Professor Snape and batted his eyelashes, jumping ahead before the snide man could begin his accusations.

"I wanted to thank Professor Snape for saving my life last year so I made him a chocolate soufflé, but Professor Snape reminded me that he wasn't the only one who saved me so he brought the cake here for the staff to share and so I could apologise."

"Apologise?" Professor McGonagall asked with a suspicious glance between Snape and Harry.

"Yes," Harry cleared his throat as if to recite a prepared speech. "I'm sorry for singling out Professor Snape. I should have remembered to thank you and Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout and Mister Hagrid as well, but don't worry, I'll apologise to them too when I see them. I hope you're not angry?"

"Angry?" Professor McGonagall's eyes softened, "Of course not. I have half a mind to award you house points."

"Oh no, Professor!" Harry exclaimed shaking his head emphatically, "You can't. Not for this." Professor McGonagall's lip curled into a very slight smile. "Anyhow, I'm really sorry, and thank you for coming to get me in the chamber last year." And with that he scooted out of the staff room wishing only that he could figure out how to blush on command. Perhaps the wonderful Weasley twins would know.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco hurried out to Hagrid's hut on Saturday afternoon, both excited and nervous about what he might have to say about their monster.

"Hagrid!" Harry squealed as the door opened, and he was swept up into the open arms of the enormous man. Hagrid scooped him up and plopped him back down at the table where mugs of hot chocolate were already waiting.

"I hope cupcakes are still okay," Hagrid grinned behind his thick whiskered beard. "I was goin' teh ask the elves teh bake us a soufflé, but I'm told ther'uh terrible lot of trouble to make."

"Oh Hagrid," Harry cried, "I'm sorry I didn't thank you properly. It should have been for everyone, not just Professor Snape."

"Nonsense, little dainty, I was jus' teasin'. What you did fer Professor Snape was very kind. And it's better yeh did it only fer him, than have him lumped in with a bunch of others."

"He shouldn't have bothered," Ron snorted, "Snape may have saved Harry, and that's great and all, don't get me wrong, but the man's pure evil."

"Ron," Hagrid chided gently, "Professor Snape may not be a kind man, but 'e is a good man. And I get the feeling 'e doesn't get thanked nearly as often as 'e should."

"But honestly, Hagrid, he actually accused me of cursing the soufflé, and he dragged me down to the staff room to get me into trouble!" Harry wailed, "If that's how he reacts to being thanked, it's no wonder it doesn't happen often."

"Or maybe it's been such a long time that 'e didn't know what teh do."

The students sat quietly for a few moments contemplating Hagrid's wise words before drifting on to other topics.

They were on their second cups of hot chocolate when the students caught each others eyes and nodded.

"Hagrid," Harry cooed, "We were wondering if you knew anything about the different monsters here at Hogwarts."

"Monsters?" Hagrid chuckled, "Hogwarts' has got a lot o' beasts an' creatures, little dainty, but not so many monsters."

"But there must have been at least a couple, right Hagrid?" Hermione pressed.

"I suppose there've been a couple," he agreed. "Now why are you all in'trested in monsters all a sudden?"

The students exchanged nervous glances.

"Yeh shudn' be lookin' fer trouble, knowing you lot, it'll find yeh, so while yer waitin' you should just enjoy yer time here and learn what ye can. Hogwarts is a very special place, especially fer yeh young ones."

"Did you attend Hogwarts, Hagrid?" Hermione asked.

"Yes I did," Hagrid sighed, "A whiles back now, I dar' say."

"Did you ever get sent to Professor Dumbledore's office?" Harry giggled.

Hagrid smiled, "Nah, Dumbledore wasn' Headmaster yet, back then."

"He wasn't?" Draco asked, casting a sharp look around the table. Dobby's information had stated that a different Headmaster had held the position back when the monster had first been set loose.

"Just how old are you then, Hagrid?" Ron blurted out.

"Ron!" Hermione chastised, aghast.

"S'all righ' dear, men don' go on abou' their age the way witches do!" Hagrid joked. "I'm sixty-three this year."

"Sixty-three?" Harry awed, "But that would mean …"

"Mean what little dainty?" Hagrid questioned.

"We were going to ask if you had ever heard about something that had happened at Hogwarts fifty years ago, Hagrid," Hermione explained. "Something involving a monster."

"But if you're sixty-three," Draco continued, his face greying somewhat, "It means you were _here_ when it happened."

Hagrid's eyes narrowed and he began fidgeting with his mug.

"Can you tell us about the monster, Hagrid?" Harry peeped.

The four students shared worried glances as Hagrid's pause grew longer and longer.

"Hagrid?" Harry near whispered.

"… Ah, little dainty," Hagrid trembled, "I knew I'd have ta tell yeh sooner 'er later, guess I was hopin' it'd be later."

"Tell us what, Hagrid?" The group all leaned in closer, as if to keep from being overhead.

"To tell yeh, about 'ow I got expelled from Hogwarts."

The students gasped in unison.

"Expelled!" Ron sputtered. "But they let you back in right?!"

"No, Ron," Hagrid sighed again and looked very sad. "They snapped me wand an' everythin'."

The students gasped again.

"But -" Draco started, uncomprehending.

"Now listen up, 'cause I don' like talkin' 'bout this and don' wan' to make it longer than I 'ave to."

The group nodded almost fearfully and waited long moments before Hagrid began in hushed tones.

"I was never any great shakes at magic. But I was always good with animals and beasts and creatures and the like. I was always lookin' fer beasts they didn't teach us about and usually had a creature er two on the Ministry's banned or disposal list that I was takin' care of.

"In me third year, there was sommat attackin' students, … a student was killed an' a beast I was keeping got the blame. It wasn't him! But no one would believe that, so I was expelled and me wand was snapped."

"But you were innocent!" Harry wailed tearfully.

"But nobody wanted ter believe that, heck, nobody 'cept Dumbledore ever let me explain meself."

"Why wouldn't they listen?" Hermione questioned. "Wouldn't everyone still be in danger?"

"The attacks stopped somehow after they kicked me out, and that was enough evidence … And sometimes pureblood wizards er quick teh turn the blame on those of us that aren't."

All eyes darted unwillingly to Draco, who was already grey-faced with cheeks tinged red.

"But if Dumbledore was on your side … ?" Hermione questioned.

"Dumbledore wasn't Headmaster yet," Hagrid explained. "An' it were three years still before 'e defeated Grindelwald so 'e wasn't so well known as 'e is now. He jus' didn't 'ave enough sway with the Ministry then and by the time 'e did, it was too late fer me.

"Ah," Hagrid sighed again, "I guess it was easy teh believe it was me, and it was easier fer Hogwarts and the Ministry if it _was_ me. Me mum weren't around, and me da' had passed on already by then, and I din't have no other family, so there weren't anyone to raise hell on me behalf, 'cept Professor Dumbledore. He convinced the Ministry to let me out of … well he took me in and convinced the board to let me stay on at Hogwarts to assist the gamekeeper."

"But you were just a kid!" Hermione sniffed.

After a moment Hagrid shook himself and turned a forced smile to the bunch. "It's all passed now, little ones. And it all worked out for the best."

"Except for the monster," Draco frowned. "Because if it was never caught, it must still be out there."

"And since you weren't the one setting it loose, whoever was is still out there too," Hermione added.

The sombre group returned to the castle in time for dinner, and joined Neville and the brutes at the Slytherin table.

"Your father sent an owl," Crabbe grunted, and handed over a thin envelope which Draco accepted with a groan. The group leaned in to see the senior Malfoy's single line of text,

_Malfoys do not curry favour by way of cake._

"Buck up mate," Ron grinned, "Better he thinks you were 'currying favour' than flirting."

Draco groaned again.


	7. Mudbloods and Murmurs

**Chapter 7 - Mudbloods and Murmurs**

After classes, homework, keeping Ron up to speed in Potions, Draco in Transfiguration, Harry in Charms, Neville in Potions, Transfiguration, _and_ Charms, and the brutes in, well, everything, the group were surprised and pleased to find that they actually had plenty of extra time available. Though, after factoring in Hermione's new Defence Against the Dark Arts study plan, Neville's and Harry's Potions detentions, Colin Creevey's tendency toward stalking, and the ambitious Quidditch training schedules for which Harry and now Draco were both a part of, they found they were left without a minute to spare after the research into Hogwarts' past had begun. They were desperate for anything they could get their hands on about what had happened fifty years ago.

They were exhausted.

Hermione dropped her head to the enormous tome in front of her. The rest of the group had already long since collapsed.

"We've got nothing," Ron grumbled as loud as he could get away with in the library.

"We know someone died, because Hagrid told us so, we know someone received an award for special services -" Hermione mumbled, still drooped face first in her book.

"- Thomas Riddle. And four kids were given special honours in Herbology," Neville finished.

"Face it," Draco drawled lazily, "It's time to just ask Hagrid."

"But we can't," Harry pouted, "He might get upset."

"It's been three weeks, and we still don't know anything, Cupcake," Ron groaned. "We can't even find the name of whoever died. There's nothing about it anywhere."

"You'd think Hogwarts, a History would mention something about a student being killed!" Hermione exclaimed, sounding personally affronted by the book's lack of information.

"And the student lists we found only show awards and honours, so we can't even check to see who's missing the year after."

"How is any of that going to tell us what the monster is?" Crabbe shifted nervously.

"It doesn't," Harry sniffed, "But it's all we've got so far. Any word from your little grannies yet?"

"My gran'd already finished," Neville answered.

"Same," Crabbe and Goyle agreed.

"Me too," Ron added.

"And I can't ask mine," Draco both blushed and sneered.

"What about Dobby?" Hermione asked. "You're a Malfoy, so if you ask him, wouldn't he have to tell you?"

"Not if my father told him not to."

"What do we do?" Goyle frowned.

The group slumped further in their seats at a loss.

"Hagrid," Draco answered.

Harry tousled his hair with an emphatic shake of his head, "I won't lie to Hagrid, and neither will any of you."

"Maybe we won't have to lie," Hermione mused.

"We can't tell him that we're looking for the monster," Harry sassed back.

"We can say that we want to clear his name," Ron said, "That's true enough."

"And what if we can't?" Harry pouted, "I won't get his hopes up for nothing. Besides, he would only be able to tell us who died, he didn't know who the culprit was, or what the monster was."

"But whoever died would probably know," Goyle suggested.

"Except they're dead, aren't they," Ron snorted at the now blushing brute. "I almost wish the sodden beast would make an appearance," he grumbled. "In the end, that's all we really need to do isn't it? Figure out what the thing is?"

"And get rid of it somehow," Neville trembled.

"And clear Hagrid's name," Harry peeped up.

"And figure out who the real culprit was back then," Hermione added.

"And find out who's doing it now," Crabbe said.

"All the while making sure Father doesn't get sent to prison."

"… Er," Goyle asked, "Can we do all that?"

The group shared uneasy looks.

"We'll think of something," Harry shimmied his shoulders bravely.

oo00O00oo

"She's going to kill us," Ron grumbled as he and Harry huddled under their invisibility cloak and inched their way out of the Gryffindor common room.

"Hush, somebody will hear you!" Harry shushed him, "Besides this was _your_ idea."

The boys edged along the wall furthest from where Hermione sat waiting impatiently. It was hard work climbing out of the portrait hole without being noticed or breaking something vital, but both boys managed. They continued along as fast as they could until they had cleared the Gryffindor staircase and surrounding area, and with a WHOOSH! the invisibility cloak was off.

"You don't think she'll come looking, do you mate?" Ron eyed the cloak again.

Harry giggled and shook his head so his un-gelled hair ruffled, "Nope, she'll go to the library without us and probably give us the silent treatment later. Hope you've got all your assignments finished already, because she won't help you again for a few days."

Ron groaned but perked up quickly, "This is worth it."

They hurried out of the castle and broke into a run, not stopping until they reached the Quidditch pitch, where Draco stood waiting.

"You escaped," he drawled with a raised eyebrow, "I didn't think you had it in you."

"Let's see it then, Malfoy," Ron said.

They weren't disappointed. Draco's Nimbus 2001 was everything they had imagined and more.

"I think it's a bit bigger than mine," Harry pouted.

"And faster," Draco smirked.

"Oh!" Harry giggled, "Don't let Oliver hear that! He'll have me training even more to make sure I can keep up with you for the Snitch. He's quite mad you know."

Draco's smirk faded and his cheeks grew red, "I'm not playing Seeker," he said in a very unMalfoyish mumble.

"What?" Harry frowned, "Don't be silly, of course you are. You've been training with the Slytherin team for weeks now."

"I'm a Chaser," Draco straightened his shoulders and cast a defiant look at the both of them.

"So there really are some things the Malfoy fortune can't buy," Ron snorted. "Still, you're built for a seeker, they'll switch you over when Higgs graduates."

Harry squashed down a grin. Terrence Higgs had been catching the Snitch for Slytherin for years now and indeed, until Harry arrived the year before, Slytherin had a number of Quidditch Cups to their name with Terrence as their seeker. Surely they weren't going to replace him.

"I'll have you know that if I wanted to play seeker, I wouldn't need my father to help me," Draco said hotly, "I wouldn't have tried for seeker if I didn't know I was better than Higgs!"

"You gave it up then?" Ron scoffed, "Right."

"Oh shut up! Father," he paused, "… Father doesn't want me playing seeker until I'm a bit older. He thinks it's too dangerous and he won't risk the Malfoy heir getting seriously injured." And with that, he picked up his broom and set off into the air.

Ron and Harry shrugged at each other, unsure what to make of Draco's outburst.

"What do you bet he couldn't beat Higgs and has the whole Slytherin team sworn to secrecy?"

"Ron!" Harry giggled and swatted the larger boy's arm.

Once Draco had calmed, the boys each took turns on his new broomstick, and after a while got Harry's Mr Nimble from the team broom shed to compare.

"This is really a terrible thing to do to a boy's ego," Harry pouted, "I could develop issues."

The boys' escape from research duty was noted and punished with two days worth of tut-tutting and huffing, and aghast refusal to aid Ron - who was deemed the worst offender - with the last two inches he needed to complete his History essay.

The Gryffindors were just preparing to ease out of slumber, as was usual during the final minutes of History class, when Hermione - even she had slouched a bit - shot up like a bolt in her seat, and with a glint in her eye, poked the now forgiven Boy-Who-Lived in the side.

Harry's right eye fluttered lazily at the disturbance, but he couldn't fathom what Hermione could possibly be so excited about. History of Magic was the dullest subject on their schedule. The only notable thing about it was the fact that it was taught by a ghost. Ancient and shrivelled, the story was that he had simply got up to teach one day, and left his body behind him in an armchair in front of the staff room fire, not noticing anything amiss until finding himself unable to pick up his stick of chalk.

Harry shrugged at Hermione's antics and poked Ron's bum to wake him. The redhead sat up with a start as he did at the end of every History class, and proceeded to wipe the small puddle of drool from his desk with the elbow of his robes.

The other students had just begun to filter out when Hermione shot her hand in the air.

"Professor!" she called frantically.

The wizened ghost was already halfway into his customary blackboard exit when he turned around, leaving half of his body hidden in the castle walls, and the other half reflecting off the dark surface.

"Yes Miss, er ...?" the ghost puzzled out.

"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us a bit about Hogwarts' history," she questioned in a loud voice, unsure if the ancient man's hearing would have improved posthumously.

Professor Binns blinked, and peered at Hermione as though he had never seen a student properly before, though more likely it had simply been two or three decades.

"Er, Miss Gunther," he crackled out, "Hogwarts' was formed over 1000 years ago, -"

"Actually," Hermione interrupted. "I was hoping you could tell us a bit about it's more recent history." She gulped, "I've read Hogwarts, a History, and it suggested that something had occurred here fifty years ago, and that a student had died."

Professor Binns blinked again, "Yes, yes, Miss Grant, a nasty business."

"Do you remember what happened?" Hermione pressed.

"Of course I do, Miss Gillyhop!" the professor croaked, frowning his wrinkled lips at the students who would dare suggest that his memory was anything but. "Now, let's see, let's see. We had a mishap with a student's pet, yes, and young Miss, er, Mirium Merryweather, that's it, Miss Merrywinkle was killed. As I said, a nasty business." And with that the ghost escaped through the blackboard.

"Well that was about as helpful as a pair of Brazilian knickers," Harry sniped.

"At least we have a name," Hermione sighed, "Sort of."

"Not exactly reliable though, is he," Ron twisted his lips in annoyance, "Considering he called you Miss Grant, Miss Gunther, and Miss Gillyhop, practically in the same sentence. What would you go and ask him for anyway?"

"In case you hadn't noticed," Hermione frowned, "He's about the only professor we could ask who's both old enough to have been here when it happened, and that we know won't wind up saying anything to the Headmaster. -"

"- We've still got nothing," Ron grumbled.

"- And since he is a professor, he might have had a bit more information than the other Hogwarts' ghosts."

"The ghosts!" Harry exclaimed. "Oh Hermione, you're brilliant! They'll know, and the portraits too!"

Questioning the ghosts proved to be more easily said than done. Indeed, most were nowhere to be found, and those that were seemed to be in a constant hurry. The students had even resorted to hunting down Peeves the Poltergeist, but he was more keen on dousing them with water balloons than answering questions. The portraits were easy to find but none as yet contained anything in the way of knowledge regarding the death fifty years previous. They had heard students talking, and saw that many were afraid, but nothing had actually happened in front of any of the pictures they spoke to, so they were told little more than what they already knew. Though, considering the hundreds of portraits that lined the castle walls, the students hoped that eventually they'd find one that had seen something useful.

The Gryffindors woke up Saturday morning and as had become habit, dressed, rushed to the Great Hall, wolfed down what they could in the mere minutes they had allotted themselves, and stuffed their pockets with whatever they could manage to eat in the halls on their way to the library.

They found Draco sitting alone at their usual table with his face half hidden behind a propped up volume, sneaking bites of strawberry muffin.

"Where are the others?" Neville giggled as Draco jumped, his bottom actually clearing his seat as he leaped in the air.

Draco flicked back his hair and continued as though nothing had happened, "They're questioning some suits of armour in the dungeons, they said they had to oil them first so I expect they'll be some time."

"Draco!" Harry giggled, "You're terrible."

"I'll go get them," Neville frowned at the pale-faced boy, and tugged on Harry's sleeve so he would accompany him.

The boys made their way into Hogwarts' nether regions, stopping twice to question portraits, and veering off course once when the Hufflepuff ghost, the Fat Friar, was spotted gliding down through an in transit staircase. Harry had just started to call out for him when the ghost slipped through the floor and into the lower storey.

"Goodness," Harry giggled nervously as he skipped through the halls, "I hope the ghosts aren't busy hiding from the monster, I'd hate to think even the dead are afraid of it."

Neville didn't respond except to nod absently.

"You've been looking at your trainers all this way, Neville," Harry cooed, calming his skip to a walk, "Whatever is the matter?"

"They're not stupid you know!" Neville burst out. "They're shy and get nervous and just want to fit in."

"I know, Neville," Harry nodded. "Draco's just not used to treating them nicely."

"He treats us okay," Neville questioned.

"He started out pretty nasty when Ron and I first met him, and I had to threaten to smack him before he smartened up."

"Vincent and Gregory can't do that, their parents would be angry," Neville looked up shyly, clearly treading the bounds of secrecy.

Harry rolled his eyes, "_Father_ strikes again?"

Neville nodded. He stayed quiet as they continued the trek and were nearing the dungeons when he whispered, "That's the real reason Draco isn't playing seeker you know."

"What do you mean?" Harry frowned.

Neville blushed and shrugged.

"_Neville_," Harry prodded with a finger to the boy's side. The two rounded a corner.

"There they are!" And indeed, Crabbe and Goyle were standing with a squeaky but otherwise silent suit of armour.

"Hi Harry, hi Neville," the boys greeted, all smiles.

"Come on," Harry smiled back, "We need you in the library, we can come back to this later."

The boys were trudging up a flight of stairs when a horrible voice trembled through the hallway.

_Mudbloods … I will find you … I will kill you … I will rip you … Mudbloods …_

The monster! Harry bolted to the landing toward the sound; it was coming from the other side of the walls. This was the vile thing that had got dear Hagrid's wand snapped in two.

"How dare you!" Harry shouted, "We're going to find you and make you pay for hurting Hagrid like you did."

The boys' mouths dropped in stunned confusion and fear. Harry had run right up to the dark stone wall and had begun pounding his little fists against it; he was making strange sounds and didn't seem himself.

"Harry?" Goyle ventured.

"Hush, Gregory, I don't want to lose the trail!" Harry shushed him.

The boys edged back a half step at Harry's annoyed expression and the whispery sounds still coming from his mouth, while Harry turned back to press his ear to wall, in an attempt to hear the dread voice again. All three stood in worry, wishing that one of the others were there; they would surely know what to do! Finally Crabbe shook himself out of his daze and took charge. He scooped Harry up from around the middle, dragged him away from the wall and hoisted him over his shoulder like a large, somewhat disgruntled, bundle of potatoes.

"Hospital wing!" he grunted to Goyle and Neville, "Get the others!"

The boys set off at a run, Crabbe not stopping until just steps away from the doors of the infirmary, while Harry squirmed and twisted in protest all the way. Crabbe hurried through the doors, careful to swing them open wide enough to not bump Harry's head.

"Madame Pomfrey!" he called just as he set Harry down on the closest bed.

The school mediwitch hurried over, "What's happened?"

"Nothing's happened!" Harry exclaimed, "Vincent's gone mad!"

Crabbe breathed a sigh of relief, "You can talk again!" he said. "Madame Pomfrey, we were in the halls and Harry had a fit. He started pressing on the walls and he couldn't talk!"

"What?" Harry let out an indignant harrumph. "I heard something in the walls. You were there, you heard it too!"

After a series of magical scans, Harry's protests, and Crabbe's insistence, Madame Pomfrey concluded that his vitals were in working order and it had indeed seemed to be a false alarm.

"I haven't found evidence of any episodes. I see this sometimes with our fifth and seventh years near exams. Overwork and a lack of sleep can make you susceptible to the magic rippling through the castle. You do seem a delicate sort."

After a stern lecture about the importance of a good night's sleep, a Pepper Up potion, and strict instructions to come straight to her if this happened again, she allowed him to leave the hospital wing.

"Mr Crabbe," she called after them, as they headed toward the exit where Ron and Draco now stood panting, obviously having run all the way. "10 points, for bringing him straight to the hospital wing. Left to his own devices, I have no doubt Mr Potter would have brushed off what could very well have been something serious."

Crabbe blushed crimson having earned his first points ever for his house. He enjoyed the moment for, well, a mere moment before being launched upon.

"Whatever was that for?" Harry huffed.

"You were having -"

"I was having no such thing!"

"People can hear you!" Draco's Malfoy pride served to hush them both. "The others are in the library, we'll talk there."

The boys walked swiftly, with Harry stomping ahead of them. The steam still billowing from his ears from the Pepper Up potion completed his posture of righteous indignation.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed softly, jumping up to hug the small boy once they had arrived. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"I heard the monster saying horrible things in the walls, and I told it to stop, and that's that. Madame Pomfrey said I was fine," Harry harrumphed again, "Vincent, however, has gone completely mad."

"I haven't!" Crabbe said. "We were on our way here and then Harry went all odd. He got all red and ran to the walls. And then he couldn't talk anymore!" He turned to Goyle and Neville for confirmation.

"Vincent's right," Neville nodded. "It was like he couldn't breathe, he was just kind of gasping."

"I was breathing just fine!" Harry pushed his lip out in a full pout.

"Well it didn't sound like it," Crabbe pouted back. "You were squashed up on the walls and going like this," and he proceeded to mimic Harry's gasping sounds.

"Well," Ron frowned. "Harry's got a point, that isn't really gasping for air. It sounds more like, well I don't know what, but not gasping. And I reckon Harry would know if he had trouble breathing."

"Do it again, Vincent," Goyle said. Crabbe repeated the sounds and Harry was met with another round of bewildered faces from the other boys. He ignored them all in lieu of kicking his feet against the legs of his chair in a deep sulk.

"What is wrong with all of you?" Hermione finally burst. "It's hissing, it sounds like a snake."

"How would _you_ know what a snake sounds like?" Draco snapped suspiciously and narrowed his eyes.

"_Everybody_ knows what a snake sounds like!" Hermione exclaimed. "Didn't you learn about animal sounds when you were a kid? Sheesh!" She rounded on Harry, "And _you_, congratulations, you gave us a good fright, now just admit you were playing a prank and let's be done with it. Your little snake talking game just isn't funny anymore."

"I was not playing pranks!" Harry stood up from the table in a huff, but was kept from storming away by both Ron and Draco grabbing his arms.

"What do you mean, 'Harry's _snake talking_ game'?" Draco whispered.

"Oh you know what I'm talking about," Hermione tut-tutted. "Like when we go to potions class and Harry says 'hello' to the paintings and then pretends to say 'hello' to the snakes. He does it every time."

"That's what he's doing?" Draco gasped. "Making snake sounds?"

"What did you think that hissing was? How is it you don't know what a snake sounds like?"

Harry continued to pout while the other boys, the wizard-raised boys, shared uneasy looks.

"Father said he'd tell me about the snake sound after this school year finished," Draco whispered. The other boys eyes widened in awe and fear.

"Mum caught Fred and George out in the garden once bent over a snake trying to hear its sound and I don't remember them ever getting into so much trouble. She kept asking if either of them, well, _you know_."

"Understood what the snake was saying?" Draco snorted. "I got caught once too." Crabbe, Goyle, and a hesitant blushing Neville nodded as well.

"Father was so disappointed that I couldn't understand. Not that he can talk to snakes either."

"What are you all talking about?" Hermione awed.

"Wizards learn about animal sounds too," Neville explained, "But we don't learn the snake sound because …" he smiled apologetically at Harry.

"Because only dark wizards understand the snake tongue," Ron burst out, before reddening and stammering at Harry, "Or so they say."

"Well I'm not a dark wizard."

"But you were only pretending anyway," Hermione admonished, "And now you know to stop."

Harry plopped his chin into his folded hands and frowned, "I didn't mean to pretend, it just comes out."

"What do you mean?" Crabbe frowned, glad to see he wasn't the only one not catching on.

"I … " Harry paused and his lip began to tremble, "Are you sure only dark wizards talk to snakes?"

The group exchanged worried glances.

"Oh Harry," Hermione leaned over to pat the now watery eyed boy on the back.

"It might be a mistake," Neville said. "You only _heard_ something today, you didn't see it, so it might not have been a snake."

"Right," Ron nodded eagerly, "It could have been anything. Any of us could make the sss sss sound at a snake, it doesn't mean we're really talking to it. Harry might say hello to the snakes in the portraits, but it isn't like they've ever said hello back, right Cupcake?"

Harry slouched further in his chair and let his worried tears flow freely.

"Blimey Harry," Ron said, "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I didn't know!" Harry wailed. "I thought it was a little odd that snakes could speak English, I didn't know it was _me_ speaking _snake_!"

"Parseltongue," Draco supplied in awe, "You're a parselmouth. How long has this been going on?"

"I don't know," Harry sniffed and continued in a panicked ramble, "I went to the zoo before I started Hogwarts and there was a big boa constrictor that was nice to me and she winked and said it was nice to have somebody to talk to and I said she was very bendy and she said I was flirting with her and then my cousin Dudley was mean to me, and the barrier disappeared, and she escaped and gave him a scare to get back at him for me. She said 'That would teach him to mess with a cutie like me.' But strange things were always happening to me back then and then my Hogwarts letter came and Hagrid came and it all made sense and I didn't think about it again. And then the portraits in the dungeons had snakes and they're always so friendly and warning us if Professor Snape is being extra grumpy and so I say hello to be nice and I don't mean to hiss when I do it, I thought I was speaking English."

"And then today," Draco finished.

"But it might have been something else today," Harry said hopefully, "Maybe it's all in my head. Neville's right, I didn't see it, I just heard it and it sounded like English so maybe it was something else."

"Well I didn't hear anything," Goyle said, "Just you making the sss sss sounds."

"Me too," Crabbe agreed.

"Me too," Neville added quietly.

"But," Ron stammered, "But how? Look, Harry, we know you're not a dark wizard, but … well, _how?"_

"Could be the killing curse," Draco mused, "That's pretty dark, and Harry got hit with it as a baby."

The group shivered, realising the implications of Draco's words.

"Or maybe," Harry broke the silence tearfully and said what everyone was thinking, "Maybe I could already talk to snakes and that's why the killing curse didn't kill me."

Draco shrugged and smirked lightly in agreement, "At least now we know why the Dark Lord was after you, afraid you'd grow up and overthrow him."

"Draco!" Hermione exclaimed, "We all know Harry isn't going to go bad, and I for one, think it's great that he can talk to snakes. I wish I could do something like that."

Harry sighed with relief knowing that neither Draco nor Hermione were about to call it quits with him. Crabbe and Goyle looked a bit puzzled but didn't seem about to up and run, Neville was pale and trembling but gave him a reassuring, if wobbly, smile. He looked to the last member of the group and waited.

"… Baking cakes for Snape," Ron grumbled, "Honestly! I think we all knew there was something seriously off about Cupcake after that."

Harry wiped his eyes and turned his frown upside down.

"If you're going to be the new dark lord, Cupcake," Ron continued, "Then I call second-in-command."

"You can't do that!" Draco gasped, "Harry has to appoint someone, and what do _you_ know about those matters anyway? I think we all know _I'll_ be the second in command!"

"What did it say?" Hermione rolled her eyes and turned the conversation back to official matters. "The snake in the walls, what did it say?"

"It said the 'M' word," Harry whispered and paused to do as the others were doing and cast a frightened look at Hermione. The group waited for her to speak but it was Draco that broke the tense silence.

"I suppose we know why my father's involved then," Draco sighed quietly, "If it's after Muggleborns, that is. One mystery solved."

"Was that it, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"No, it was awful, just awful," Harry shuddered, "Going on about killing and blood and ripping people to bits."

"Can snakes do all that?" Neville whimpered.

"Not just any snake," Hermione said, "It would have to be one big enough to be heard through the walls."

The group shivered again once they understood just how monstrously huge a snake would have to be to make its hisses heard through Hogwarts' thick stone.

"I guess it's back to the library then," Draco added.

"We're _in_ the library," Hermione smirked. "Wait here." The boys watched as the bushy-haired girl headed to the front desk and chatted with the perpetually frowning pinched faced librarian. Long minutes later she arrived back at the desk, levitating a large stack of books in front of her.

"We're looking for big snake monsters," she said, handing out books to each of them, "Get to work."

It was approaching dinner when, after hours of hopeful exclamation, disappointed signs, and brittle page turning, Goyle looked up from the ancient tome in front of him.

"This might be something," he stammered, "It probably isn't but …"

"Go on," Harry smiled.

"Er, right," he blushed and took a deep breath and began plodding through the words. "Of the many fear … fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more cur-ee-us or more deadly than the Ba … Bas," he slumped in his chair and pushed the book across the table to Hermione. "I can't do this!"

Hermione scanned the page and her eyes lit up, "Gregory's right, this is it. 'Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it.'"

The group gazed at each other, a basilisk.

"Nice work Gregory," Harry beamed at the boy sending his already crimson face into an even deeper blush.

"Oh bloody hell," Ron spat at the offending words. "We're supposed to kill the monster that _monsters_ are afraid of?"

"I figure we'll get ourselves a couple of roosters and let them do the killing for us," Draco shrugged blithely.

"And you're all _sure_ this is it?" Neville whimpered, "Because I don't want to challenge any monster with _roosters_ only to find out that we were wrong."

"We'll keep looking just in case, Neville," Harry patted the boy's hand, "But I think the basilisk is a good bet. We haven't found anything else that even comes close. Besides, all we know is that it goes around in the walls. We still have to figure out how to find it."


	8. The Deathday Party

**Chapter 8 - The Deathday Party**

The rest of the weekend was spent knee deep in research, finding and disproving possibilities until the full group was convinced that the monster in question was indeed a basilisk.

"What next?" Harry said through a dramatic stretch, "Dumbledore?"

"Same problem as before though," Draco frowned, "I can't imagine that conversation would go over well, _'Good evening Headmaster, we thought you should know that the school has been invaded by a basilisk, you know, the Serpent King? Mind getting rid of it before we all get eaten?'_"

"Hagrid?" Neville tried. "Or Professor … You-Know-Who?"

"Professor You-Know-Who?" Draco smirked, while the rest of the group giggled. "Even Snape isn't that bad."

The group stilled and sat restlessly.

"I thought we were just going to go after it ourselves anyway?" Ron frowned. "Once it's dead, who cares if we told anyone or not?"

"But what if we can't do it?" Neville whimpered, "Someone died the last time, what if that happens again? We … well if we don't tell someone, and someone dies, would it be our fault?"

The group already knew the answer to that, the weight of which slumped them down into their seats around the library table.

"And what if one of us dies trying to kill the basilisk?" Hermione said. "Do any of you really want to fight that thing if maybe we don't have to? If the professors can do it?"

"We did it last year," Ron grumbled. "The monster can't be worse than You-Know-Who, and Harry fought him off all by himself. There'll be seven of us, and the roosters, we'd be fine."

"I don't know, Ron," Harry pouted, "If the Professors had gone down there instead of us, well, you wouldn't have had to get knocked silly by that horrible chessboard queen, and Draco wouldn't have nearly killed himself almost drinking poison, and if it was the Headmaster or Professor Snape fighting Yoo Hoo instead of me, maybe they would have been able to finish him off!"

The group sat in silence. The reason they hadn't simply gone to a professor in the first place, would have the final say in what they would do.

"Fine. But, we tell them what we know and leave it at that," Draco finally answered, nodded resolutely to himself, "Nothing about how we know, they'll just have to trust us when we say we know what we're talking about."

"And really," Ron shrugged, "Knowing how we know, wouldn't help them anyway, would it? So there's all the more reason to shut up about that."

The rest of the group agreed and seemed to lighten now that a decision had been reached.

"Dumbledore then," Harry sat up straight and tossed his well positioned locks with grim determination. "If he doesn't listen we'll go to Snape."

"What about Hagrid?" Hermione asked.

"If anything happens, I want Hagrid's name as far away from it as possible. If we tell him, he'll have to go to the Headmaster, and then it'll come out that he knew about it first. They might not care that we were the ones that told him. They already jumped to conclusions once."

"And if anything happens, they'll probably look his way first anyway," Hermione said with a glum nod.

"Er," Crabbe mumbled, "How do we find the Headmaster?"

"I guess we might need an appointment, though if we do, I don't know how we'd make one," Harry said.

"It's nearly dinnertime, and he eats every meal in the Great Hall," Hermione nodded, "We can approach him then and tell him it's urgent. Come on, we should get there early."

The group arose from the table though paused when it became clear that Draco wasn't about to move.

"Come _on_, Draco," Harry whined, "If we're going to do this, let's just _go_ already!"

"I was thinking, maybe we should just go straight to Snape," Draco said.

"What?" Ron burst out.

"Father says -" Draco started, and stopped when all six of the faces staring at him turned sour. "No, listen! Father wants to me to stay away from Dumbledore if I can help it. He says Dumbledore can read minds and has no qualms about using it on anyone and everyone."

"Malfoy," Ron snorted, "You think maybe your father is just lying to scare you off of siding with the Headmaster?"

"Besides," Harry giggled, "Even wizards can't read minds, right, Hermione?"

"Actually," Hermione said slowly, and eased back into her chair. "I saw something once about a branch of magic that allows someone to see other peoples' thoughts. It's supposed to be very difficult and only the most powerful wizards are able to do it."

"Hey!" Crabbe startled, "Isn't Dumbledore one of the most powerful wizards?"

"That's kind of the point she was making," Draco glanced up from the table to sneer at the boy. Crabbe blushed and sat back down, followed quickly by the others.

"Fine," Ron spat from his reddened face, "Should we wait till Potions or catch the bloody bat in the Great Hall at dinner?"

"I think we've already waited long enough," Hermione said. "We'll do it now."

The group made to leave once again, this time being stopped by Neville's lack of progress.

"Neville," Harry cooed at the trembling, still seated, boy, "Whatever is the matter?"

"I don't want to go to Professor Snape," Neville shivered, "He's really scary and you know he'll spend the whole time yelling and glaring and calling me names."

"… Neville's probably right," Hermione sighed. The group shared a look and sat back down. Snape would never stop yelling long enough to listen, and even it he did, he would never believe them.

"Dumbledore reads bloody minds, Snape's bloody psychotic, Hagrid will get thrown in bloody Azkaban, and McGonagall already proved last year that she bloody well wouldn't listen to us. What do we do now?" Ron fumed.

"Anonymous owl?" Neville reddened at his own suggestion. The group looked around at one another.

"Well that isn't _completely_ horrid," Harry pursed his lips in thought. "We could tell them everything they need to know while avoiding being sassed by Snape or probed by Dumbledore, right?"

"Right," Crabbe agreed eagerly, "And there's no chance we'd mess up and say something we weren't supposed to on accident, right?"

"Right," Goyle answered, following up with a quiet 'whew!' "What about the owl though? We can't use any of ours, er, because, _uh-non-ee-mus_ means nobody knows it's us, right?"

"Right," Ron nodded, "Well, anyone can use school owls so they shouldn't be able to trace one back to us, and between that and the cloak we should be okay, right?"

"Right, and then if anything happens after that we'll be in the clear," Draco quirked a brow. "We'd have done what we could to warn them, right?"

"Right," Neville perked up. "But, we're still going to have our roosters just in case though, right?"

"Right," Hermione patted Neville's shoulder, "And we're not going to stop asking the ghosts and portraits, if we find out anymore information, we can send a second owl. So now we just have to write the letter, right?"

"Right," Harry shimmied his shoulders and tossed his hair, "Boys, get your quills out!"

The group grinned and as one, answered back, "Right!"

oo00O00oo

With the letter written and sent, they were able to devote the time they had allotted for research to Hermione's Defense Against the Dark Arts replacement course, Dark Arts and its Defence, as she had taken to calling it, much to the rest of the group's chagrin. They had not forgotten the monster at hand however, and under the guise of an obscure advanced Herbology assignment, Neville had received no less than four roosters from his Gran, all of which the Gryffindor boys were now attempting, rather unsuccessfully, to maintain and keep hidden from Dean and Seamus in the second year boys' dorm. Luckily, Hermione had the foresight to amend her lessen plan to include silencing spells, once the rooster request owl was first sent out.

They had neared the end of October when, after continued unsuccessful ghost searches, and one botched séance, Harry and Ron stumbled upon the Gryffindor ghost on their way to the library.

"SIR NICKY!" Harry shrieked. The boys dashed top speed at the retreating ghost, yelling after him as though their lives depended on it. Though with the basilisk mystery as yet unsolved, they felt it kind of did.

The preoccupied ghost startled out of his thoughts and turned, allowing the boys to catch up to him.

"Sir Nicholas," Ron panted. "We've been looking all over for you."

The ghost straightened proudly, "You have? Well."

Harry gave the ghost a blatant head-to-toe once over, giving an approving nod to Sir Nicky's trim physique and appraising the ghost's attire, "You've been here a long while, right Sir?"

"Five hundred years this week," he answered proudly. "Which reminds me, I have a celebration to prepare for, I must be gliding along."

"Wait" the boys gasped.

"Boys, deathday extravaganzas don't organise themselves."

"But we need to talk to you and the other ghosts!" Ron edged in as the ghost sunk halfway into the lower floor. The boys scrambled onto their hands and knees to stay at eye level.

"After the celebration, boys," the ghost winked, "All us ghosts will be much too busy preparing until then. Unless, but no, you wouldn't want -"

"What is it, Sir Nicky?" Harry twisted onto his stomach, as the ghost's head was all that remained on the third floor.

"I don't suppose you would like to come? All the Hogwarts' ghosts will be in attendance, as well as friends from all over the country. It would be a talking piece to say the least if the Boy-Who-Lived attended my deathday party. Not many ghosts will get to claim that."

"Whatever you want, but -" Harry grimaced.

"Wonderful!" the ghost cheered, "This Hallowe'en about seven, in the dungeons, bring your friends." And with that he slipped through the floor to the lower level.

"A deathday party!" Draco sneered when the two finally arrived in the library where he, Hermione, Neville, and the brutes were already assembled.

"Well bollocks that," Ron agreed. "There's no way we're going, we'll miss the Halloween feast!"

"Oh who cares about the feast?" Harry squealed, "We'll be at a party full of the Hogwarts' ghosts! We'll be able to talk to every single one of them all at once."

"But the feast!" Ron whined.

"Er, will there be food at the party?" Crabbe asked.

"Sir Nicky said it would be an _extravaganza! _You can't have a proper extravaganza without plenty to eat," Harry said and grinned as Crabbe agreed to go.

"Will the Bloody Baron be there?" Goyle asked, and added himself to the 'no' camp at the reply.

"I think we should go," Neville said quietly. "Last year the school was attacked on Halloween, remember? What if the monster comes this year? At least we'll be with the ghosts, they'd never be targets, right? So we'll be safe."

Harry stuck his tongue out in triumph at Ron, Draco, and Goyle, the dissenters, then turned to the tie breaking vote ready with his most winning look. Ron and Draco turned Hermione's way as well, countering Harry's look with their own.

"Your puppy dog eyes aren't nearly as good as Cupcake's, Ron," Hermione smirked and turned to Draco, "And neither are yours. We're going to the deathday party. I for one, think it'll be very informative, just think, we must be some of the few living people who'll have ever attended one."

Harry perked up and abandoned his puppy eyes while Ron and Draco groaned.

Soon the group found themselves planning their outfits for the deathday party. To the jaw-dropping shock of the Gryffindors, the Slytherins each had a formal outfit fit for the occasion.

"You should never go anywhere without a set of formal robes," Draco frowned with disbelief at the Gryffindors' lack of preparation. "Didn't your parents teach you anything? No offence, Cupcake."

"None taken," Harry rolled his eyes.

The Gryffindor boys tidied up their school robes, and Harry gelled back his unruly locks to keep his lightning bolt scar in prominent display. Hermione had a muggle skirt and blouse to wear, and only protested 'on principle' when Harry insisted she use a pinkie-finger full of the pink gloss sample found in his Cosmopolitan magazine, though he insisted that the perfume sample was his and his alone.

The Gryffindors made their way to the dungeons to meet up with their Slytherin friends and were led into the empty Slytherin common room to wait until Draco deemed them fashionably late, and therefore ready for the perfect entrance.

"They're ghosts, Malfoy," Ron grumbled, "Who cares what kind of entrance we make?"

"Just because they're ghosts, it doesn't mean they don't still have influence, Weasley," Draco frowned, "You never know when a recommendation from the prominent dead could come in handy."

"How to be a Malfoy, lesson two hundred and ninety-six," Ron whispered to Harry's giggles.

Already in the dungeons, they simply followed the ghostly trail toward the party.

"Every step just gets colder and colder!" Ron complained.

"That's how we know we're getting closer, Ron," Harry shivered and huddled into Ron's side.

Soon they turned down a passageway lined with jet black taper candles, each burning bright with a blue flame, casting a dim, ghostly light even over their own living faces. Draco refused to do anything so undignified as covering ones ears with ones hands, but the rest of the group had no such qualms when they heard what sounded like a thousand fingernails scraping an enormous blackboard.

"I hope the food is better than the music," Ron grumbled. They turned a corner and saw Nearly Headless Nick standing at a doorway hung with black velvet drapes.

"My dear friends," he greeted them mournfully, "Welcome, welcome … so pleased you could come …" He swept off his plumed hat and bowed them inside.

It was a dreadful sight and the group inched through the drapes as slowly as they could without offending the host. The room was filled with hundreds of glowing forms, dressed in varying degrees of unfashionable attire. Most of the ghosts seemed to be focused on a group in the middle of the dance floor. At the front of the pack was a large ghost with his woolly head tucked under his arm, from which position he was blowing a loud hunting horn.

"So much for your grand entrance, Malfoy," Ron managed to snort.

Nearly Headless Nick followed them inside, "That's the Headless Hunt," he said bitterly. "All of them sliced right through and all, led by Sir Properly Popped Off, Patrick Podmore."

And indeed the group of them were busy juggling their heads, tossing them to one another and trying on the beheaded heads of friends.

"That's disgusting!" Hermione exclaimed.

"I know," Sir Nicholas agreed enviously, "Terrifying, aren't they?"

"I think you should let your head dangle, Sir Nicky," Harry shivered. "You say you're only hanging on by a thread, so your whole head will be upside down. If you float a little higher than normal to keep your eyes level where they should be, you'll be scarier than any of those headless show-offs."

"Hmm," Sir Nicholas considered the suggestion and eased his near severed head into position. "It's a bit strange upside down. Am I frightening?"

The group nodded uneasily.

"Well at least I'm not hungry anymore," Ron grimaced.

They changed their minds about asking Sir Nicholas about the events of fifty years past, and instead eased away from the now quite disturbing guest of honour. Squeamish and well on edge, the group jumped at the sound of a rather pitiful wail.

"Oh bother," Hermione grumbled, recognising the sound. "I didn't think even Moaning Myrtle would be here."

"Who?" Harry whispered, taking in the scene.

"Some crazy ghost who haunts the girls' loo on the first floor. It's awful trying to have a pee with her wailing all the time."

"She haunts you while you're on the toilet?" Harry giggled.

"Of course not!" Hermione exclaimed with a faint blush. "Well, kind of, I've never actually seen her though. Nobody ever goes in there unless they really _really _have to."

When the boys' chortles had died down, she rolled her eyes and suggested they split up to begin questioning the ghosts about Hogwarts' past.

"Not until after we eat," Ron put his foot down.

"Remember what you said about not being hungry, Weasley?" Draco smirked as they approached the buffet. The row upon row of velvet draped tables were laden with a disgusting array of dishes in varying states of rotting decay.

"I think the haggis is moving," Neville whispered. And indeed the maggots that crawled across the skin gave the haggis a rippling appearance.

"Oopsy doodles," Harry wide-eyed sheepishly, "The dead have strange ideas about what makes a successful extravaganza," he pouted.

"Oh bloody hell," Ron groaned, "Fine, we'll go ask the ghosts, but I'm not going anywhere here by myself."

"Me neither!" Neville agreed. The group looked about at each other, none wanted to venture alone or even in pairs of two. Unable to decide who got to be in the group of four if they just divided in half, they wound up simply shuffling about the room huddled together as one.

All were reluctant to question the nearest ghost, the Bloody Baron, and instead wove their way passed -

"Careful not to walk through anyone," Ron whispered nervously.

- and stopped at the Fat Friar.

"Fifty years ago?" he answered, "A bit too far after my time for me to have really kept track, but I bet our dear Myrtle could help."

For once, Hermione's grumbles out-volumed Ron's.

The Friar drifted away but not before calling Myrtle's name and waving her over. The group watched in shock as a squat ghost of a girl glided over.

"What do you want?" she pouted tearfully from behind a face full of lank hair and thick pearly spectacles. "You're not even dead!"

"You're Moannn … Myrtle?" Hermione exclaimed, catching her tongue just in time.

"But you're just a kid," Ron sputtered, "You must have still been a student when you died!"

The group paled as Ron's words fully registered.

"How long ago did you die, Myrtle?" Neville trembled.

Myrtle seemed to shimmer, she bent over to peer at them all suspiciously, "Why are you so nosy?"

"Because," Neville hesitated and looked to the others for help.

"Because," Hermione stepped in smoothly, "You're young, so if you haven't been dead too long and grown up too much, we could be friends."

"Right!" Harry exclaimed, "You were about our age right? All the other ghosts are so much older, you must be frightfully bored all the time."

"They are a bit dull," Myrtle wailed dreadfully. "You want to be friends with me?"

"Uh, sure, what's wrong with that?" Ron asked. "Do dead people not like living people or something?"

"No!" Myrtle yelped, "We like the living. We do."

"And you'd want to be friends with us?" Neville smiled with Harry's patented puppy eyes.

"I've only been dead fifty years or so!" Myrtle pouted. "It's not like I'm five hundred or anything."

The group gasped with the confirmation of their ideas and shared a nervous look, unsure how to proceed.

"Um, Myrtle?" Harry ventured, allowing his eyes to water slightly. "We read about a student dying here in the castle about fifty years ago, but they didn't just die, they were killed, by a monster. That, well, that can't be you, can it?"

"Um hmm," Myrtle nodded proudly.

"But that's awful! Just awful!" Harry squealed.

"Oh it was!"

"Do you remember what happened?" Hermione asked.

Myrtle nodded.

The group beamed and leaned in eagerly.

"Ooooh, it was dreadful," she said with relish. "It happened in my bathroom, I remember it so well, I had hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then -" Myrtle swelled importantly, "I died."

The group frowned and leaned in even closer, waiting for more.

"But how?" Harry squealed when it became evident that the tale was done.

"No. I. Dea," Myrtle said in hushed tones. "I just remember seeing a pair of great big yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away." She drifted upwards dramatically and gazed dreamily at Neville.

"Oh," Neville ummed and ah'd nervously, stepping back a step, "Er, what bathroom is yours Myrtle? Maybe you could show us?"

Harry gave Neville a squeeze at his bravery in asking such a bold question, and then pushed him back forward toward the blushing coquettish ghost.

The group hurried through the castle after Myrtle's drifting form, bumbling up countless stairs until they were back aboveground.

"My bathroom is just that way," Myrtle stroked her hand through Neville's shoulder, sending him into the air with a small shriek at the shock of cold.

"Damn," Draco muttered once they were in sight of the bathroom door, "Filch's cat."

"Don't worry," Ron said, "She won't get Cupcake or me in trouble."

The bathroom door began to ease open and much of the group turned to Myrtle as she gasped in delight, "There's someone inside," she squealed. "No one ever uses my toilet!"

The cat hissed viciously.

"You again!" Myrtle squeaked out.

A thump was heard.

The door slammed back shut.

"What in bloody hell?" Ron looked around at the others accounting for his friends; Harry was fine, puzzled but fine. Hermione had rushed to the now keeled over cat, smoke drifted up from its small form. Neville was whimpering behind him. "Myrtle!" Ron burst out.

No longer pearly white and transparent, Myrtle was now black and smoky, floating in a slump, hovering just a few inches off the floor. Strangely, a pair of trainers could be seen poking through her shadowy midsection.

"Vincent!" Harry squealed and rushed over to boy, lying prone and stiff on his back behind the ghost. "Ron, Draco, run and get the professors!"

Ron startled out of his gaze and grabbed the still stunned, ashen-faced boy beside him. "Move, Malfoy!" The two dashed down the hall toward the feast.

"Hermione!" Harry called. The girl had backed up against the wall, her face a blank but terrified stare. Before her lay the remains of her previous actions. She had attempted to move the smoking cat, but the acrid liquefied sludge that Mrs. Norris had become was not fit for touch. The breath was sucked right out of the boys, as they understood what had become of the animal. Neville slumped to the floor in hysterical sobs at Crabbe's side, though Goyle bent down and tentatively touched his friend's hand.

"Thank goodness," Harry breathed. Unlike the cat, Crabbe had not liquefied. "But he's not breathing. Gregory, do you know CPR?" The heavier boy shook his head. Harry looked at Hermione and Neville and sighed, they would be no help. He ignored the tears streaming down his cheeks and began the series of compressions and respirations that he hoped would help his friend.

"Oh!" Goyle exclaimed, "ERI! I can do that."

Harry smiled with hope as Goyle took his position at Crabbe's side, using his wand and a spell for the compressions, sending a magical jolt along with it. This proved superior to the muggle counterpart, as the compressions had been difficult to the point of uselessness, since Crabbe's rigid form refused to budge.

The few minutes before help arrived felt like an age, but sure enough faint footsteps could soon be heard tearing down a distant hall. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick came flying around the corner with Ron and Draco panting behind them.

"Vincent is all stiff," Harry whimpered, "But Mrs Norris' gone all melty."

Snape pushed Harry and Goyle aside and Dumbledore leaned in to examine Crabbe. The tip of his long, crooked nose was barely an inch away from poking Crabbe in the eye, and both the headmaster and Professor McGonagall were busy prodding and poking at Crabbe's arms and chest. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, glaring venomously at everybody.

At last Dumbledore straightened up. "Mister Crabbe is not dead, he has been Petrified. Professor Snape, if you will see your charge to the hospital wing, I'll be with you shortly. Please take Miss Granger and Mister Longbottom as well, I believe they are suffering from shock and hysteria respectively."

The remaining boys stood in silence and watched as Snape gave a sharp vicious nod and levitated Crabbe right through Myrtle's dark and wispy form. Hermione and Neville soon joined him and the three friends floated down the hall in an ominous gloom.

Dumbledore and McGonagall turned now to the liquefied cat. After a moment, McGonagall transfigured a Knut into a broad white cloth, and covered the cat's form.

"Mrs Norris has passed on," Dumbledore said. "Professor Flitwick, if you could find Mr Filch and have him wait for me in my office?"

The tiny man nodded and hurried away on his task while the headmaster and deputy inspected Myrtle.

The boys huddled together in shock and worry; Ron kept Harry wrapped snugly in his arms while Harry made sure to keep a firm hold on Goyle's hand.

"Students," Dumbledore said, turning to them at last, "I know it's been a trying night for you, but I must ask you to tell us what happened here?"

They explained that they had spent the evening at Sir Nicholas' deathday party and had been escorting Myrtle to her bathroom when everything turned to noodles and sauce.

"Did you see who was responsible?" Dumbledore pressed.

"Who?" Goyle puzzled.

"We didn't see anything Professor," Draco jumped in. "Just the door slamming shut."

"And then Ron and Draco went to find help and Gregory and I tried to help Vincent," Harry whimpered.

"That was good work, Mister Goyle, Mister Potter," Professor McGonagall cast a faint, weary smile their way, "Essence Revival Invocation was little use in this situation, but good clear thinking on your part. It's exactly what I would have done in your place."

"Will Vincent be okay Headmaster?" Goyle asked.

"He'll be fine, Mister Goyle," Dumbledore answered kindly, "If you recall your Herbology classes, you'll remember that Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive your friend."

"When will that be Professor?" Draco frowned.

"June, May perhaps, but you may visit as often as you wish."

"June!" Harry shrieked, "He can't stay petrified till June!"

"Harry's right, Professor, he -" Ron reddened and cast an apologetic glance at Goyle, "He'll never catch up with a whole year of work. He'll be held back!"

"It's the best we can do," Dumbledore said with contrition. "We'll find a way to get him caught up. Now, it's best you return to your dorms."

"Dorms!" Ron snorted, "Can't we stay in the hospital wing with our friends tonight?"

"I'm afraid not, Mister Weasley," McGonagall answered with a faint smile and watery eyes, "You can visit first thing in the morning though."

The group nodded and slouched together with exhaustion and sadness.

"Can Draco and Gregory stay with us in Gryffindor tonight then?" Harry blubbed. "It'll be so sad for them to go back to Slytherin without Vincent."

The group sighed in relief when that was permitted and soon found themselves trudging away, two Gryffindors and one Slytherin shy of their full set.

They turned their first corner and found that the halls were still empty, as the rest of the school was still at the Halloween feast.

"At least they didn't evacuate the feast this time," Draco raised an eyebrow.

"No, they didn't clear out the hall," Harry stopped walking and planted his still trembling hands on his hips. "They aren't escorting us back to Gryffindor tower either."

"What are you thinking, Cupcake?" Run cleared his throat and peered at him.

"We told them about the basilisk in the letter, right?" Harry eyes were still red from his earlier tears, but that didn't stop them from glinting with mischief. "And even if they didn't believe us, today was proof that the basilisk is really here. But they're not even walking us back to the tower to make sure we were safe."

"So?" Ron pressed.

"So, they didn't go inside the bathroom while we were there, and nothing came out," Harry finished with a dramatic hush.

"It's trapped inside," Draco nodded. "They wouldn't just let us wander the halls after what happened, but they can't leave the door or the basilisk will escape."

"That'd be something to see," Ron leaned against the wall. "All the professors are probably going to battle it out with the basilisk. The feast will be over soon so I bet they'll be starting any minute."

"Do you think we should bring them Neville's roosters?" Goyle asked.

"They probably have their own," Harry sighed. The group had edged back the way the came while they spoke. As one they peeked around the stone corner.

"It's empty," Goyle said needlessly.

"Dumbledore and McGonagall must have gone in on their own," Ron awed.

"You'd think they'd wait until another professor arrived to block off the door," Harry sniffed, "Just about anyone could wander in while they're fighting."

"Locking spells, Cupcake," Draco smirked.

"Myrtle's gone," Goyle added quietly. Indeed the hall was free of the wispy, smoky black, twice-dead ghost.

"I guess she must have finally crossed over," Ron whispered.

Without speaking, the group sat down on the stone floor and watched the empty hallway.

They sat and waited until they had fully calmed from the previous events. They continued to wait, and tensed with anticipation when the sounds of students bustling about were heard around them.

"The feast's out," Ron whispered.

They waited until the halls were quiet again, and kept on waiting until the sounds of their four rumbling stomachs kept them from further inaction.

"I think the basilisk must have got them!" Ron said.

"Should we help them?" Harry peeped.

Draco shrugged, "Even if you wanted to, they've locked themselves in, haven't they?"

"Besides," Ron shook his head, "We're not going in there without the roosters anyway."

Harry began to tiptoe back down the hall toward the bathroom.

"Harry!" Ron hurried after him, "What are you doing?"

"I'm just going to listen at the door," Harry whispered back, "If they're fine, we'll hear them fighting. And if not, well, maybe I'll hear the basilisk say something about what happened, then we can find another professor to help them."

The others nodded and tiptoed behind Harry. The four of them pressed their ears against the bathroom door.

"I don't hear anything," Ron whispered, "Harry?"

"Nope."

After a few moments and a shared nod, Ron reached forward to try the handle, it turned.

"Keep your eyes on the floor," he said. "And if you see anything weird, run!" He inched the door open and they peeked inside, eyes downward, but were met with only tile.

"Hello?" Harry called, "Yoo hoo? Professors?"

The group raised their eyes a few inches from the floor. Then a foot. Then another.

"They're gone."

"If they were even here in the first place," Draco sneered.

"But," Harry sputtered, "The basilisk! Where? What happened?"

"I don't know," Ron frowned, "But whatever it is, I think we should get out of here."

The others nodded and hurried out of the bathroom. They bustled through the halls and this time, continued on until reaching Gryffindor Tower.

Draco and Goyle received a few odd looks upon entering the common room but the group ignored everyone and hurried instead to the second year boys' dorm.

With Neville in the hospital wing, the group bed had been extended to make room for the extra sleeper.

"Er, friendly lot, you Gryffindors," Draco puzzled at the sleeping situation.

"Hush!" Harry hissed, "Dean and Seamus could come in any minute, we don't have time for this." He huddled the boys onto the bed and glared fiercely. "We were only gone a few minutes at most, that couldn't have been enough time for Dumbledore and McGonagall to go into the bathroom, kill a basilisk, get rid of any evidence, and leave, could it?"

"No way," Ron agreed.

"Except," Draco frowned, "Where's the basilisk? We were watching the whole time and we didn't see it leave."

"Maybe there's another way out of the bathroom?" Goyle said. "Like the toilets or something?"

"No basilisk is going to fit down the drain," Draco sneered.

"But you're right, Gregory," Harry nodded, "There must be another way out. Maybe another door on the other side?"

"But that means the professors just went in, saw it was empty and left?" Ron questioned, aghast with disbelief.

"Myrtle died in that bathroom," Harry's eyes glinted viciously, "And today, Vincent got petrified just outside of it, there's obviously something going on there, and they didn't even spell the door locked or block it off or anything!"

"You know," Draco paused, "Now that I think about it, nothing seems to have changed in the last few days."

"What do you mean, Malfoy?"

"They would have received our owl ages ago, but nothing has changed. Why hasn't there been an announcement warning us about a possible danger? I haven't seen the professors around in the halls more than usual, nothing that would suggest they were looking around for a monster."

"If I were Dumbledore and I got a warning about a basilisk being set loose, I'd have roosters at every corner of the castle," Ron nodded.

"Exactly!" Draco said. "So where are they?"

"What a crap school," Ron grumbled, "I thought Hogwarts was supposed to be _the finest school in all of Europe?"_

"This would never happen at Durmstrang," Draco sighed. "Maybe we can all transfer there."

"Right," Ron snorted, "And think of all the Galleons we'd make selling the kittens my mum would have."

The boys giggled but sobered quickly.

"Enough," Harry said, "You all already know what I'm going to say."

The other boys nodded.

"The basilisk dies tonight."


	9. The Writing on the Wall

**Chapter Nine - The Writing on the Wall**

The boys gulped at Harry's words.

"Nobody hurts one of us and gets away with it, and since I don't know if Dumbledore is going to do anything, I'll just have to do it myself," Harry said, giving his shoulders a resolute shimmy. "None of you have to come with me, but Vincent's my friend, so I'm going."

"You're not going anywhere without me, Harry," Ron clapped him on the shoulder. "Besides, I thought we should've done this right from the start anyway."

"Vincent's my best friend," Goyle trembled. "I'm going too."

"You?" Draco sneered, "And what use are you going to be against a basilisk? One of us has to stay behind to tell the professors, in case the rest of us don't make it back."

Goyle turned red and didn't stop there, continuing on until his face was near purple.

"You're the one who should stay behind!" he burst out, years worth of suppressed fury finally taking vent. "You don't care about Vincent at all! You only want to stop the monster because you're afraid your stupid father will go to prison, but maybe he _should_ go to prison! Vincent near died, and now he'll be in the hospital wing all year, because of _your_ father!"

Harry's hands flew to press at his cheeks, and Ron's mouth dropped open in shock. Nobody but Harry had ever really stood up to Draco. Even Ron had never pushed so far.

Goyle's rant ended and after a few panting breaths, his purple face blanched to fearful ashen. They sat in silence for a few moments, all staring at Draco, waiting for his response.

Draco eased up from his place on the bed, and leaned over Goyle with a vicious glare. "So you _finally_ decided to grow a spine," he smirked, "Good."

Harry burst into nervous, relieved titters, while Ron continued to gape.

Draco tilted his chin and eased back down into a pillow. "He makes a good point," he said as if nothing had happened, "Vincent _nearly_ died. Myrtle died, or whatever a ghost does, and that vile cat snuffed it, but Vincent didn't. Why?"

The other boys shook themselves out of their shock and focused on the matter at hand.

"Maybe the basilisk is just a baby?" Ron ventured. "It was powerful enough to kill Mrs Norris and to kill someone who was already dead, but not powerful enough to kill Cra ... er, um … Vincent?"

"But it was powerful enough to kill Myrtle the first time around," Harry frowned. "Could there be two? The old basilisk and its wee baby?"

"Do snakes have babies, I mean, you know, _like that?"_ Gregory coughed.

"I don't know," Harry answered, "The book said that basilisks are born from a chicken's egg, hatched under a toad. So I guess not. Maybe I'm upside down then, and the basilisk might just be very old?"

"They're supposed to live for hundreds of years," Draco frowned, "But it's only been fifty since the last time."

"But it could've already been pretty old fifty years ago," Gregory blushed, wholly unaccustomed and rather uncomfortable with participating so closely, his opinions being heard as a relative equal.

"So maybe it's too old to kill with its stare!" Harry peeped, "It could have cataracts or glaucoma or something awful like that!"

The group looked at each other with gleaming excited eyes.

"There are four roosters," Ron grinned, "One for each of us. That'll keep it from getting close enough to get us with its fangs, and we're too big for the basilisk's stare to do anything but petrify us."

"Except," Gregory blushed again, "Vincent's, you know, a lot bigger than Harry, and you too Draco."

"We'll keep you big-fellas in front of us at all times," Harry giggled.

The boys hurried to make their plans for the night, and then gave Dean and Seamus a modified version of the evening's events once the pair had arrived for bed.

They feigned sleep until Dean and Seamus were snoring lightly, then Harry tiptoed out into the common room under the invisibility cloak.

"All clear," he whispered upon his return.

Each carrying a silencing spell encased rooster cage, the boys took advantage of Filch's inevitable grief over Mrs Norris' rather icky demise and hotfooted all the way to the hall by Myrtle's bathroom. With the midnight hospital visit excuse ready, they paid little mind to whatever professors might be canvassing the halls and focused instead on the basilisk. Each ran with their wands in hand; ready to release the silencing spell on the cages they carried in case they met up with the basilisk on the way. They arrived without incident.

"Ready?" Harry whispered.

The boys nodded.

"Mine first," Ron said. He trained his wand on the rooster cage he carried and chanted, "_Finite Incantatem!"_ Immediately the rooster - quite upset at having been jostled about throughout the halls - began to crow. Ron and Gregory edged down the hall toward the bathroom with Draco and Harry following behind.

"Do you think it's in there?" Gregory asked.

Ron shrugged, "It wasn't there earlier but Galleons to Goblins it's the place to start looking."

Gregory nodded and took a deep breath before turning the handle on the bathroom door. He turned his head away and thrust the door wide open, while Ron slid the rooster cage inside with a hard kick. Gregory pulled the door shut with a loud slam.

They repeated the procedure with the three other roosters: removing the silencing spell, and whisking the cage through the door.

"If it's in there, it's got to be dead by now," Ron frowned.

Harry nodded and gave Ron, Draco, and Gregory each a close hug, just in case. Gregory shook hands with Draco and Ron, and Ron and Draco gave each other a firm chin tilt.

"Here we go," Ron breathed, and wand flailing, burst through the door.

The others followed right behind and upon seeing the room free of any dead monsters, they began searching the room for the second exit. Each bathroom stall was examined, revealing charms and releasing spells were cast until the boys were ringing from the magic in the room.

"If there's another exit in here," Ron panted, "I don't think we're going to find it."

"Then how did the monster find it?" Harry panted back.

"A better question," Draco said, giving one of the rooster cages a light kick, "Is how did the basilisk open the door? I didn't think of it before, but these doors have handles, they don't just swing open and closed."

"Snakes don't have thumbs," Gregory agreed, then blushed, "Or, you know, hands."

"That means that the dark lord behind this dastardly plot is either here in the castle," Harry shivered, "Or has an agent here doing the dirty work."

"Doesn't matter right now," Ron paced across the room. "We all have wands, so if we run into the wizard we'll be fine. We still have to find the basilisk."

"I say we start walking around this floor and have Harry call for it in parseltongue," Draco said. "If it hears you, it might say something and we can start tracking it down."

"What should I say?" Harry peeped. "What if it's a smarty pants? I can't just start yelling, it'll run away."

"Tell it you have muggleborns for it to eat," Ron suggested.

"Except," Draco blushed, "You should probably use the 'M' word."

Harry nodded and furrowed his brow. He took a deep breath, "Yoo hoo! Basilisk -"

"You'll want to be saying that in _parseltongue_, Harry," Draco twitched his lips in a lazy drawl while the other boys snickered.

"That wasn't parseltongue?" Harry frowned, "Oh poop. I've never had to _try_ to do it before, it's always just come out on its own."

"Maybe if you make the sss sss sound first?" Gregory said.

The other boys nodded and Harry began sss'ing.

"I sound like a silly goose!" Harry exclaimed.

The boys' eyes widened and they began to cheer. Harry grinned and started beckoning for the basilisk.

"So?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head. "All I can hear is rooster."

"What?" Ron frowned. Harry rolled his eyes and pointed at the rooster cages, cursing rather colourfully all the while in parseltongue. The boys caught on and silenced the cages.

Harry gasped and cast a frightened face at the others. He could hear something! He picked up a rooster cage and got his wand ready, the others did the same.

Harry paced around the bathroom, alternating between calling out in parseltongue and listening to a faint reply.

"Show yourself!" Harry shouted, "Don't you want to eat these nice tasty mudbloods? They're young and fresh and pretty!" Harry listened and listened, and finally found his way to the sinks where the hissing seemed loudest. He went along the wall and explored the sinks, inch by inch until finally the words were clear:

_Instruct us! Tell us your command!_

Harry gasped and yelled back, "Show yourself!"

The tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin. A moment later, the sink itself began to tremble, shifting left and right and dipping down an inch or two before rising again!

Harry motioned frantically to the other boys. After a moment they caught on and released the cages from the silencing spells.

"Open up all the way!" Harry shouted.

The sink responded immediately; it sank, right out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed.

"Whoa!" Ron awed.

The boys stared in awe for full minutes; fear set them trembling and the roosters crowed in protest.

Harry broke out of his astonishment with a full wiggle, and lowered his rooster cage into the pipe. He cast a quick wink at the other boys and let go. They listened to the cage scraping along the pipe, the crows growing more and more distant. The sound continued for long moments, but a faint bang and a squawk was finally heard.

"Do you think it's reached the bottom?" Harry asked.

The other boys brightened at the sound of Harry's proper voice and shrugged. He crawled closer to the opening.

"No!" Ron shouted. "You're not going first, Harry. You might be small enough for The basilisk's stare to work, remember? I'll go."

"No," Gregory stopped him and tucked his wand back into his robes. "_I'll go_."

Without further ceremony, he scooted to sit on the bathroom floor, dangling his legs over into the pipe. With the rooster cage firmly in hand, he edged forward, and forward, until with a whoosh! he cascaded down the pipe.

Ron followed next, leaving Draco and Harry alone in the bathroom peering down into the pipe.

"You're not going to kiss me again, are you?" Draco drawled.

"Maybe," Harry giggled, "But it wouldn't be because I was about to die. Besides, you know you liked it!"

Draco smirked back.

"Thanks Draco," Harry sobered, "For what you did with Gregory."

Draco blushed and shrugged, "I figure you and Longbottom must like those two for a reason. Besides, no one has ever called Father to answer for anything, and anyone with a set big enough for that, isn't someone I want working against me." He lowered himself to the floor and latched onto a rooster cage, a moment later, he was gone.

Harry followed behind a few moments later.

Harry's ears popped after the third curve and he began to feel rather unsettled about being so far beneath the castle. A steeper dip and faint sounds began to tickle at his senses. After another curve the strange echoing became more distinct, it was Ron and the others, yelling!

"Don't ... down!" he heard them calling. "... professors!"

Harry tried to stop his descent, he used his hands and the soles of his shoes to cling to the sides of the pipe, but the slimy coating would have none of it and he could do no more than slow himself down. Once Harry realised the futile nature of his attempts, he released one sliding hand and drew his wand, then let go completely so he could reach the end of the tunnel faster so as not to leave his friends to face whatever danger they were facing without his help.

Harry had run through half a dozen different spells and had just decided on which would be best suited for whatever could be awaiting him when he was finally able to make out his friends words:

"Don't come down! We can't get back up! Get the professors!"

Harry relaxed, they hadn't been taken hostage by the dark lord or about to be eaten by the basilisk as he had been thinking. The pipe seemed to level out and Harry felt himself slowing. He turned a wide corner and small rays of light could be seen ahead. The lights grew larger and somewhat brighter until finally Harry shot out of the end of the pipe with a wet thump.

He sat, stunned for a moment at the sight of his friends. Each had the glowing light of a _Lumos_ charm on the tips of their wands, and they seemed to be hovering slightly, as if sitting down on three very high chairs. Harry lit his wand with light and peeked around. The three were perched atop what could only be the basilisk. It was enormous, and very dead. He scrambled to his feet to the sound of three loud groans.

"Damn!" Ron cursed.

"I didn't hear you until I was already halfway down," Harry frowned. "Oh doodles."

"We've got to be a full mile under the castle!" Ron exclaimed. "My ears popped twice on the way down!"

"We can't get back to Myrtle's bathroom," Draco's worried face could be seen behind his ever present sneer. "Even if we wanted to climb a mile, a _steep_ mile, up a pipe, there's no way we could manage it through all that slime."

"At least the basilisk's dead," Harry peeped. He wandered around the basilisk's form, inspecting it by wand light, even compressed with coils the monstrous thing spanned twenty feet, he didn't even want to guess at it's stretched length. "What is this place?"

The boys hadn't done any exploring so the four pointed their wands around and found themselves in an expansive room, the walls narrowing to their right, leading to a walled path. The only other place to go was back up the pipe.

They scooped up their now silenced roosters - Harry's cage hadn't survived the pipe ride so he had to tuck the abused rooster under his arm - and edged forward along the dark walkway. Crunching sounds could be heard beneath their feet as they stumbled over the bones of numerous small animals.

"Uh-oh!" Gregory hushed. "Another one!"

The boys halted, frozen. Blocking the path was something huge and curved. Harry unsilenced his rooster and threw the squawking bird toward the form. The bird landed on the snake, which promptly collapsed into itself.

"Just a skin," Ron panted.

The boys hurried passed and didn't slow down. They rounded a bend and then another and then ...

"Dammit! It's a bloody dead end!"

"No," Harry shivered, "Look here!" In the centre of the wall was a carving of two entwined snakes, each had eyes set with great gleaming emeralds.

"Do it," Draco urged.

Harry took a deep breath and began sss'ing, then, "Get out of our way!"

The wall cracked open, separating the snakes as the two halves slid smoothly out of sight.

"Holy crap!" Ron stepped through the opening and was followed closely behind by the others.

They were standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long black shadows through the odd, greenish haze that filled the expanse. They eased around the room, and stopped before a statue at the back wall. It rose as high as the chamber itself and the boys had to crane their necks and tilt back to see the full length. It was a statue of a man: starting with enormous feet at the chamber floor, continuing with a long thin beard that stopped at the bottom of the wizard's sweeping stone robes, and ending with a giant, ancient face whose emerald set eyes were the cause of the chamber's greenish tint.

"What is this place?" Gregory repeated Harry's earlier words with a fearful hush.

"Must be an old part of the castle," Ron said.

"With the snake decor, I'd say maybe this used to be the Slytherin dorms," Draco added, "Except you seem to need to be a parseltongue to get in or out. Maybe this was Salazar Slytherin's bedroom, he _was_ the greatest of the Hogwarts founders you know."

"How great could he be?" Ron snorted, "What kind of weirdo would put their bedroom on the other side of a bathroom sink? A girls' bathroom no less?"

"My point, Weasley," Draco sneered, "Was that if this is his bedroom, then Myrtle's bathroom must only be for emergencies."

"Which means there's a regular entrance somewhere else," Harry giggled.

"Oh," Ron blushed. "... So?"

"Hmm?" Harry pouted, "Oh! Right." He gave his hips and shoulders a serpentine wiggle, "Show us the way back to the castle!" he hissed.

A patch of black edged into being at the statue's left heel, the stone receded smoothly into itself, leaving a gaping hole behind.

"Can't get any worse, right?" Ron snorted and headed into the opening.

The narrow passage was lit with glowing orbs of green flame, suspended well above them in mid air.

"Harry?" Draco whispered once they had reached the end of the short tunnel. "I think you have to open it up again."

Harry hissed in parseltongue but the wall before them didn't do so much as shuffle.

"Dammit!" Ron shouted. He slammed his fist against the wall before them and proceeded to fall right through.

"Ron!" Harry shrieked at the bum and legs of his friend. The legs turned and were replaced with reaching freckled hands that rose from the floor to grope at knee level and then at the waist. A moment later they grabbed Harry by the pants and pulled!

Harry found himself in a dimly lit hallway, "We're in the dungeons!" he exclaimed.

"Just outside the Slytherin dorms," Ron grinned.

Harry caught his breath and with an affronted harrumph and giggle, removed the freckled hand from the band of his pyjama bottoms. "Next time you pull me through some sort of magical doorway, you'd better watch where you put your hands, Mister! And you still insist you like girls."

Ron was saved from blushing too deeply by the appearance of Draco and Gregory.

Draco smirked at the surroundings, "Told you that was Salazar Slytherin's bedroom!"

"Is that it?" Gregory stammered, still tense and ready. "Are we done?"

"We went in, we came out," Draco quirked a brow. "Looks finished to me."

Gregory frowned, "Was it like this last year? When you went down the trapdoor? That adventure sounded a lot more …"

"Adventurous?" Ron finished. "I know what you mean. This all seemed a bit too easy."

"Better too easy than too hard," Draco shrugged at their frowning faces. "Look, it's better that the basilisk died without a fight. We were ready. That was the point of having the roosters, remember? So we could take the easy win instead of battling it out with a monster. And if you'd rather go back in there and starve to death instead of finding a simple way back out, you're all welcome to it."

"I'm with you on that," Ron frowned, "But -"

"But nothing," Draco argued. "It's over, we won. You damn Gryffindors are always looking for more trouble."

The boys relented and allowed themselves to enjoy their victory.

"So," Draco smirked. "How do you figure we can get back in?"

The boys looked back at the wall they had spilled out of. A few quick touches proved that it was indeed solid. Harry walked around hissing opening commands and pleads to no avail.

"Oh well," Harry gave up, "We probably shouldn't go back there anyway. Whoever was setting the basilisk loose was probably in there the whole time hiding and spying like a peeping Tom."

"Nah," Ron shook his head, "He would have attacked us. But you're right, he definitely knows about the place. After this is over though, when he gets caught, then we'll have a great spot to, well, do whatever in." Ron's face turned sour, "Oh blimey, you know Hermione's going to turn it into a huge study room!"

The boys giggled and re-silenced their roosters for the hurried trek back to the Gryffindor dorms.

After peeling out of their grimy robes and thoroughly de-sliming themselves in the washroom, the boys tucked into the second year bed and fell fast asleep.

Morning came all too soon for the boys who made their way through their showers and grooming rituals in a foggy half sleep.

"Hey," Gregory exclaimed at the trunk standing across from the nightstand at his portion of the bed, "That's mine!"

"House-elves," Harry grinned and pulled on his socks. "Three days after we fixed the beds together, just enough time to know we weren't going to change them back, we came up for bed and found all the pushed together four-posters gone and one enormous bed in it's place. The house-elves here are totally on top of things, I don't think I even knew that Hogwarts had them until then!"

"Hurry up, Malfoy!" Ron urged as the blonde worked a comb through his already perfected coif. "If we're going to eat before getting to the hospital wing we have to leave now!"

"We're not _eating_ first, Ron," Harry rolled his eyes and giggled at Ron's groans of discontent.

Hermione and Neville were awake and already dressed when the others arrived. Both looked refreshed though Neville's face was already blotchy and stained with dried morning tears.

"Is it true?" he pounced on Harry, "Vincent's just asleep for a few months?"

The group assured Neville and quieted his tears.

"When does Madame Pomfrey return?" Draco asked.

"She said she'd check on us in another hour and let us go to class."

"What about breakfast?" Ron groaned.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and uncovered a polished silver tray next to her bed; it was overflowing with fruits, toast, muffins, bowls of porridge, and pumpkin juice. She had to shoo Ron away as she manoeuvred the tray to the bed Vincent was in. Neville pulled his tray over as well and the group moved to huddle around their petrified friend.

The basilisk group shared grins and leaned in.

"Guess what we did last night?" Harry sing-songed.

"We killed the basilisk!" Ron burst in around a mouthful of blueberry muffin.

"You did what?" Hermione shrieked. "How?"

They relayed their story from the previous night, ending with the mystery bedroom and door. Harry trailed off seeing that Hermione had returned to tears.

"What's wrong?" he cooed.

"You could have died!"

"Nah," Ron grinned, "We figured out that the basilisk was too old to kill us. Vincent just got petrified, the basilisk wasn't strong enough to kill someone our size."

"You idiots!" Hermione yelled through her sobs, "Vincent is only alive because he didn't see the basilisk directly! We had all turned to look at Myrtle so we didn't see the basilisk, but Vincent was _behind_ Myrtle, so he was looking straight at it. Myrtle was in front of him, acting as a barrier! Mrs Norris saw it straight on, so did Myrtle, but Vincent saw it though a filter! Don't you remember what Hagrid said? There were students who were _attacked_ but only Myrtle died. The _attacked _students were probably just petrified, like Vincent, they probably saw the basilisk through a filter of some kind, just like he did!"

The boys sat in stunned silence.

"Bloody hell," Ron finally whispered.

"We were going to go anyway, Hermione," Harry said with a proudly jutted chin, "Even before we thought it couldn't kill us. We might have been more careful than we were, but we were still going to go."

Ron, Draco, and Gregory nodded as well.

"But," Neville wailed, "But why? After what happened to Vincent!"

The basilisk group shared locked eyes for a long moment. "We went _because_ of what happened to Vincent," Harry sniffed.

Ron nodded, "Maybe if it was just Myrtle and Mrs Norris, or if it had petrified someone else we could have left it to the professors, but it got _one of us,_ and _nobody_ gets away with that. Not even blood-thirsty monsters."

The group shared a solemn pause, before breaking into individual and quite private smiles, enjoying what those words meant to each of them, and more than a couple basked in the idea of what those words could mean _for_ them as well.

oo00O00o

After their morning classes, the Gryffindors ambled to the Great Hall and continued on to the relatively unoccupied Slytherin table. Draco and Gregory were sitting with two other first year students: Pansy Parkinson, a pug nosed blonde with a simpering nasally voice, and Blaise Zambini, a quiet boy that Harry had often partnered with in Potions. They sat down and ignored the looks of surprise from Pansy and Blaise. Draco and Gregory reciprocated at dinner, but having sat there numerous times already, the Gryffindors were long since accustomed to seeing them at the table.

Dinner was, like lunch, a quiet affair. All they really wanted to talk about were the events of the previous night, and they couldn't very well do so openly at the table. They had agreed to forego the library that evening, as much of the group were still weary from their adventurous night, and instead the group left the hall and made their way to the dorms.

"Where are you going?" Ron frowned as Draco and Gregory turned to head toward the dungeons.

Harry gasped, "Didn't you like our bed?"

"Cupcake said you were staying in Gryffindor until Vincent came back!" Neville trembled on the verge of tears.

The two Slytherins stood stunned for a moment before breaking into bewildered grins.

"But I thought -" Gregory started. Draco silenced him with a sharp elbow in the side.

"We forgot," Draco smiled.

oo00O00oo

The students all expected to be called to their Heads of Houses or the Headmaster to further discuss the Hallowe'en incident but after another day passed and no summons came they realised that none would.

"Do you think they're even looking anymore?" Neville trembled as they eased away from the toasty fire in the common room.

"That's if they even looked in the first place," Ron sneered.

"I think we should send another owl." Hermione's suggestion was met with fierce scowls. "There's a dead basilisk in the school," she explained, "And if they are actually looking for it then we need to tell them so they can stop. They'll be able to look for the culprit instead, or maybe they'll have more time to devote to waking Vincent up. Speaking of which, I'm going to bed."

The boys bid goodnight to the lone girl in their group and headed to bed themselves.

Ron woke up the next morning in a vicious temper, resulting from the sharp elbow poking into his forearm. He pushed it away roughly and rubbed the sore spot, causing a domino wake up to cascade along the bed in the process. "How did _he_ wind up sleeping between us anyway?" he muttered to Harry from across the smirking blonde.

Harry giggled and eased out of the bed, "Well _you_ always _refuse_ to spoon with me, so I put Draco there instead."

Ron snorted, "And I'm supposed to believe that _Malfoy_ agreed?"

A crimson blush rushed from Draco's neck to his forehead, "I didn't know I had a choice!"

"Well you did, but now you don't," Harry and the other boys giggled at Draco's new predicament.

"What's that?" Ron frowned once he was fully out of bed. The boys turned around to follow his gaze. A thick brown dripping 'X' had been painted on the wall at the other end of the bed.

"You Gryffindors are disgusting!" Draco sneered. "That better not be what I think it is!"

"Eeeew!" Harry wriggled, "I don't think it can be what you think, nothing's stinky. I think it's paint."

"No," Seamus said, "It's all lumpy, it can't be paint either."

The boys went about their morning and were surprised to find a bustle in the common room when they made their way to breakfast. It seemed that the brown marks weren't limited to the second year boys' dorm.

"You all right, Ron?" Fred or George called across the room. The second year boys hurried over to stand with the twins. "You okay, Dean?"

Dean nodded a puzzled face at the twins concern, "What's going on? Is this about the brown X's?"

The twins shared a wary grimace, "As far as we can tell, all the muggleborns here in Gryffindor had an X painted above their beds last night," George said.

"Painted in mud," Fred finished in a hush. The second year boys shared a glance, the spot was closest to the place where Dean slept.

"But who would do that?" Harry squealed then gasped, "Oh gosh, where's Hermione!"

The remaining group said their goodbyes to Seamus and Dean, and hurried to the library, the first stop whenever Hermione needed to be found. She was seated with her chin in her hands at their usual table and was crying.

"Hermione!" Harry wailed, "Are you okay? We couldn't find you in the common room and ... " he trailed off as he hugged her to bursting.

"I'm fine," Hermione muffled out. "I thought I wanted to be alone."

"Do you want us to leave?" Harry peeped as the others pulled up chairs to huddle around her.

"No," Hermione allowed a tiny grin through her tears, "I only thought I wanted to be alone, I don't really."

"So," Ron startled, red faced, "You know what happened then."

"Who would do something like that?" Neville started, tearing as well, the stress of the last few days being much too much for him.

"I think we're all agreed that this isn't just some student's idea of a joke," Draco frowned. "Whoever was behind the basilisk is the one who's done this."

"That's the thing," Hermione whispered, "Everybody in Gryffindor was really angry, but they should be scared. A basilisk is a deadly weapon, somebody's really out to kill."

"I thought everything was going to be okay now?" Gregory worried, "I thought we stopped the bad guy."

"No," Harry frowned, "We stopped the basilisk. It looks like the bad guy has moved on to Plan B."


	10. The Rogue Bludger

**Chapter 10 - The Rogue Bludger**

"What now?" Ron grumbled.

Hermione sniffed, wiped her eyes, and straightened up, "We need to send another owl, and I'm not going to let you all argue out of it. We have to tell the Professors that the basilisk has been dealt with and that the perpetrator has moved on to other plans that we are unaware of."

"We need to get them to warn the students," Harry sniffed in disgust.

"Have they done anything for poor Mrs Norris yet?" Neville whimpered.

"We were with you two in the hospital wing at the time, but Dean says Dumbledore had a minute of silence for Mrs Norris after her 'untimely demise,'" Ron snorted. "But he didn't say anything about how she died."

They headed to their first class and found the halls buzzing with talk of the mud-painted walls.

"So it wasn't just Gryffindor," Ron mumbled. "Doesn't sound like any Slytherins were targeted though."

"There are no muggleborns in Slytherin," Draco smirked.

"How is that possible?" Hermione wondered.

Draco raised an imperious eyebrow and paused in thought, "I think we scare them off on the train ride here."

"However did this dark lord get around to everyone in one night?" Harry shivered, "He's like an evil Father Christmas!"

Hermione made to branch off from the group with a quick word that she would meet them in class.

"Where are you going?" Ron demanded.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the witches' hat on the door before her.

"Cupcake!" Ron urged.

Harry giggled, "I know." He latched onto Neville's hand and dragged him through the door to the girls' loo, leaving Hermione to wander in bewilderedly behind them.

"What?" Hermione sputtered, struggling for words. "You, what?"

"You're not going _anywhere_ without at least one of us, Hermione," Harry schooled his giggles into a sincere demeanour. "We didn't kill that basilisk for nothing, I'll have you know. Besides, I've been in the girls' room with you before."

"There was a troll then," Hermione said, still in shock. "It won't always be empty in here you know."

"Oh hush, it's just Neville and lil' old Cupcake," Harry waved his hand, "Nobody will mind."

oo00O00oo

The day passed quickly, most of it spent too immersed in study to worry much for other matters.

After a particularly horrendous shared Potions class, the group trudged to the library to regain their bearings and get some work done before dinner. A quick glare from Draco and a growl from Ron had the two fourth-year Ravenclaws seated at the group's regular table switching seats to two tables over.

They slumped into place and sat, still dazed, enraged, and scared out of their wits due to Snape's vitriolic teaching style. Finally Hermione shook herself out of it and shuffled through her bag for a quill and parchment so she could begin the next information owl for the professors. Harry tinkered with it, then Draco, before Hermione glossed it back into a cohesive work and handed it over to Ron to rewrite. His penmanship, when exacted to form, was completely unrelated to the chicken scratch the professors were accustomed to seeing in his assignments.

They had just begun to look at their Potions homework when Neville looked up with a worried frown. "We have to do something about Vincent," he said.

"I know!" Harry wailed and wriggled lower into his seat. "Could you _believe_ Potions today? How does the Headmaster expect Vincent to catch up with that in the summer? Maybe if it were _only_ Potions it would be okay, but Potions on top of everything else as well?"

"There has to be a faster way to wake him up," Gregory said, "Why aren't they doing anything?"

"The Headmaster - "

"The Headmaster can kiss my freckled arse," Ron's face turned dark. "You know if it were Cupcake or even Malfoy, Dumbledore would have them awake by now. The wizarding world would go ballistic if they heard the Boy-Who-Lived was going to spend a year petrified! And Malfoy's dad would have Dumbledore by the stones - "

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed with a deep blush.

"- so bad he be forced to find a way to wake him up or face the public or the Board of Governors or something."

"Well why couldn't Vincent's parents do the same?" Hermione frowned after the group agreed that Ron was likely right.

"Well Vincent isn't the Boy-Who-Lived, and the Crabbes aren't Malfoys," Draco smirked.

"What would he do then?" Harry pouted his lips, "If it was me or Draco, what would Dumbledore be doing that he isn't?"

"Bring in a Healer or a specialist?" Neville said.

"Can we do that?" Gregory asked, and all eyes turned to Draco.

"It isn't me petrified, so I don't think Father will want to get involved," Draco mused with a frown. "I don't expect he'll want any extra eyes turning his way without good reason."

"What about the mandrakes?" Hermione narrowed her eyes. "The professors are waiting until Professor Sprout's mandrakes are matured, but couldn't they get them from somewhere else?"

The boys nodded eagerly.

"So why aren't they?" she quirked her brow.

Ron let out a deep sigh, "Please don't say it, Hermione! I can't read another book!"

Hermione maintained an indignant humph for only moments before she and the group broke into giggles. She grabbed Draco's wrist and with a roll of the eyes, headed into the library's maze of tomes.

By the time she returned, all Potions assignments had been cast aside to be wrestled with another day. Ron was face first on the desk with his arms spread out amid his Charms homework, fully completed Hermione noted with a pleased nod, and Harry was busy tutoring Neville and Gregory with their Transfiguration work. He spared her and Draco a quick wink as they sat to pour through _Fungus Shmungus: Grow, Buy, Sell, _and_ Hey, Don't Eat That!_

Neville and Gregory were parched and throats sore from mastering their Transfigurations incantations and were ready for a well needed intrusion when Hermione cleared her throat.

"Well here's something," she said. "I suppose the Headmaster is waiting until Professor Sprout has grown her own because, mandrake is really expensive."

The group turned their eyes once again to Draco, who leaned over to look at the figures.

Many unsavoury facial expressions, such as eye bulging, had long since been bred out of the Malfoy line, and any inclinations that remained had been trained out of Draco during early childhood, so having grasped the listed figures, Draco could do little more than pale, "What she means to say is that mandrake is **_really_** expensive," he awed. "It would be months before my allowance would cover this."

The book was passed around so that the others could gasp and adopt the dejected postures that Draco was genetically incapable of achieving.

"Maybe we could take up a collection?" Neville chewed at his bottom lip.

"Absolutely not!" Draco sneered, "There has never been a Malfoy, _ever,_ who has stood holding a collection cauldron, and I certainly am not going to be the first!"

"Actually," Hermione looked back to the book, "Even if we had the money, mandrake is almost impossible to get. If you remember from the day we re-potted them, they actually looked a lot like human babies then, which means they grow up to look a lot like human adults. They've probably already learned to walk in fact. Anyway, this means that mandrake is a _'partially sentient'_ plant, so it actually has to be killed in order to use it. The book likens it to killing a cat or dog."

Draco groaned under his breath, "Restricted?" he asked.

Hermione nodded, "It says here that mandrake is _'a class two restricted item on the Ministry watch list,'_ which means the Ministry controls its growth, death, use, and distribution."

"So what?" Ron shrugged, "I bet somewhere on Knockturn would have it."

"Probably," Draco quirked a brow, "But we won't have a chance to get there until Christmas holidays, and we won't have the money by then. Bother!" he burst out, "I can't believe there are things out there that even _I_ can't afford!"

Ron let out a snort and rolled exasperated eyes with Harry, the two turned to meet Hermione's own flabbergasted huff, and Gregory's and Neville's incredulous smirks.

"Welcome to the real world, Malfoy."

"Well then, Weasley," Draco glared. "What happens in this real world of yours when you need Galleons fast and don't have them?"

"People get jobs," Hermione nodded, "Take out loans, sell things."

"I'm not selling off my things," Draco snapped, "So stop looking at me like that all of you!"

The group slumped into their seats again, lost as to what to do.

Neville peeped up and began to giggle, "We could sell signed photographs of Cupcake, maybe Lockhart would help!"

The group burst into giggles but sobered quickly.

"You know," Ron perked up again, "We might not even need actual money. I bet we could trade for the mandrake when we go into Knockturn over the Christmas holidays. We've got an entire basilisk sitting in that bedroom. That's got to be worth something."

"You don't just walk into Knockturn with a pocketful of basilisk and start asking to trade," Draco sneered, "Especially if you are a twelve year old Weasley, Potter, Longbottom, or muggleborn. Which isn't to say that Gregory or I would have any better luck not being kidnapped and such."

"Ron is onto something though," Harry mused. "A basilisk has got to be worth, well, a small fortune I'd say. If we could figure out -"

"Stop right there, Harry Potter!" Hermione gasped. "You all may have been able to kill it but there is no way even the group of us combined would be able to carry it out of the castle whole, even with magic. And don't even start about cutting it into manageable pieces or just taking the fangs because the only thing that isn't severely poisonous about a basilisk is the outside of its skin. Just touching the fangs will burn your hand off, same with the blood, or the eyes, or anything else."

"We'd wear gloves," Ron snorted, as if that explained everything.

Hermione huffed and looked about ready to smack him.

"I think she means it would burn through the gloves," Gregory grinned as Ron blushed scarlet.

"Doesn't matter anyway," Draco frowned, "I can't ask my father, and Gregory can't ask his, and without them any dealer would simply rob us."

"So we get a bad price," Ron shrugged, "So what? It'll be worth it."

"Er, Ron?" Harry peeped with a grin, "I think by 'rob us,' Draco meant that they would steal the basilisk and then leave our mangled bloody corpses in a back alley."

"Oh. Right," Ron grimaced and blushed again. Weasleys had never had to worry about that sort of thing before.

"This is too dangerous," Neville whimpered. "If we knew someone who could help us, fine, but we can't risk just asking strangers."

Albeit reluctantly, the rest of the group agreed.

"Er," Gregory cleared his throat and flushed, "Christmas holidays are too far away anyway. That's weeks and weeks of work that Vincent will have to catch up on. I don't know if he can do that ... I know I couldn't."

"Greg's right," Neville said, "If we're going to risk it, it should be worth something. There's no point doing all this if Vincent's going to be held back anyway."

"I hate to say it," Draco smirked, "But I wouldn't be too surprised if Hagrid knew someone in Knockturn. Why not ask him to ask around for mandrake for us? He could have it in a matter of days."

"But what if he got caught?" Hermione frowned, "I suppose he'd have the excuse that he wanted to help a petrified student be revived sooner, but …"

"Hagrid is abso-_toodle-_lutely our last resort," Harry said in a firm voice, ever quick to keep his first ever friend out of trouble.

"We already hit that point, Cupcake," Ron said.

"Oh no we haven't!" Harry gasped and shimmied his shoulders in delight, "I'm such a silly goose! We know at least _one_ person in Knockturn who can be trusted not to eat us on first sight." He paused for dramatic effect, "The purple-eyed man!" Harry exclaimed with glee. "I can't believe I'd forgotten about him. He gave us his card that time, I bet _he'd_ know what to do."

The boys' cheers were repeated with a hush upon receiving visceral glares from Madam Pince and to a lesser degree, Hermione.

"You guys keep forgetting the first problem," she huffed, "Even if he could sell it for us, we'd still die extracting the parts."

"But if he can _sell_ if for us," Harry wiggled in annoyance, "Then he might know how to extract the parts without _dying!_ Or he would find out for us. Sheesh Hermione, you know you're supposed to be the smart one."

"I am the smart one!" Hermione glared.

"_Besides_," Harry perked up even more. "If we can sweet talk lady luck just right, maybe we won't even have to touch anything dangerous at all. There's that huge basilisk skin just sitting there. If that's worth enough, we won't have to do anything else."

After a breath, she rolled her eyes. "Harry, do you really want to be in direct contact with someone who not only knows how to sell basilisk parts, but is willing to sell it for children? Do you know how shady and dangerous that would make him?"

Harry groaned, "He _is_ shady and dangerous, Hermione! We _know _that already! He works in Knockturn Alley, he sold duelling holsters to second year students who were _alone in Knockturn Alley!_ He's shady! But who cares? It'll all be perfectly safe and respectable. Or whatever."

"Look, Hermione, it isn't like we have a whole lot of other options at this point," Ron added. "And Vincent is going to have to wake up bloody soon if he's going to get to third year on time."

"Besides," Draco argued, "We were all there once and he didn't try anything. And Cupcake was there once before that, with his muggle aunt no less.

"He arranged the Knight Bus for me and everything!" Harry squealed. "And we wouldn't even have to meet in person, I have his Floo address. He might not be one of the good guys, but if he were, he wouldn't be able to help us, would he?"

Hermione sighed in defeat, they really had no choice. If it were Ron or Harry or Draco or herself, they'd have time to figure out a better plan, but Vincent simply couldn't afford to miss any more classes if it could be helped.

"Fine," she nodded, "I'm only agreeing because we've got the basilisk skin. It's safe, and it's just sitting there so we owe it to Vincent to at least try. But if that doesn't work out, then we have to stop."

"Hermione's right," Neville continued to tremble, "I want Vincent awake as much as any of you, probably more, but not if waking him up just means someone else takes his place in the hospital wing."

"Exactly," Hermione nodded to Neville, "We'll make one single Floo call, if the skin is worth something we can take it from there. And even with the Floo, we have to be careful. Harry, you have to keep your scar covered, he can't know he's dealing with the Boy-Who-Lived. Same goes for you Ron, and you too Neville, the Weasleys and the Longbottoms are well known families who are historically aligned with the Light. It would be a terrible scandal if either of you were caught dealing with a Knockturn merchant."

"Actually," Draco frowned, "Once Cupcake makes the first contact it'll be best if one of the three of us," he nodded to Hermione and Gregory, "Take over the conversation."

"Fine," Harry pouted with dreamy eyes, "But I want a good long look at him first, even if that means I have to speak _very_ slowly."

oo00O00oo

After his unequivocal humiliation during the first class, Lockhart had taken to simply ignoring the entire lot of male Gryffindor second years, and instead, spent the duration of class calling on Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, and Hermione, to play the part of damsel in distress as he enacted the heroic rescue scenarios outlined in his presumably fictitious texts. The male students used the class time to catch up on their other homework or read up on the theory portions of Hermione's lesson plan. That said, it was nothing out of the ordinary when next class, Lockhart wrestled a stuffed dog, er, werewolf, to the ground and rescued Hermione from the desk, er, tree she was trapped in. Indeed, with the exception of now planning the upcoming Floo call, the rest of the week was back to routine. Classes, homework, detentions, Quidditch practices, and Dark Arts and its Defence work.

They had agreed, that Sunday night would be the best chance for them to contact the purple-eyed man, so until then, the group was able to turn their unrest to other anxiety ridden issues and dilemmas. As such, Friday night saw both Harry and Draco huddled on the second year boys' bed, wracked with nerves in anticipation of the events of the following day, the first Quidditch match of the year: Gryffindor Vs. Slytherin.

"Ease up, Malfoy," Ron grinned, "We can barely deal with Cupcake's nerves, we can't have you getting crazy too."

"Malfoys do not succumb to the lowly impulses of nervousness," Draco claimed with a shaky but reasonably haughty sniff.

"Then why are you green?" Ron snorted.

"Cupcake is trembling," Draco nodded, "It's making me queasy. Yes, that's right."

Saturday morning dawned muggy and grey, with a hint of thunder in the air.

Draco and Harry were wished luck and given hugs and handshakes from their opposing house friends before making their way into the Great Hall for breakfast. They had agreed that as it was only a once a year occurrence, it would be best for the Gryffindors and Slytherins to sit at their separate tables, in order to maintain team solidarity before the game.

As had become routine, the Gryffindors each contributed to Harry's - as Draco once called it - 'Breakfast of Champions,' which consisted of various sweets. Neville and Hermione were determined to keep him healthy and added scones, bananas, and whipped cream to the mix of chocolate frogs, sticky buns, and pumpkin pasties already on his plate.

"Relax, Cupcake," Ron leaned over to squeeze the small boy's shoulder.

"But what if we win and he gets angry?" Harry worried.

"He already knows Gryffindor is going to win," Ron snorted, "Just don't catch the Snitch before he gets to show off and it'll be fine."

"But what if he's awful?" Neville giggled.

"Neville!" Hermione exclaimed, though she too couldn't help her giggles from escaping.

Harry received a last round of hugs before entering the locker rooms and left his friends to make their way to the Gryffindor stands. The teams separated to the boys' and girls' opposite ends to don their scarlet Gryffindor robes, and met up again in the middle once they were done.

While waiting for team captain, sixth year Oliver Wood, to finish pacing, Harry busied himself by braiding Chaser, Alica Spinnet's hair for the game.

Oliver stopped before them, his eyes shone with determined steel, and he delivered his pre-match pep talk with the maniacal obsession the team had grown to expect. "And you," he turned to gleam at Harry, "You catch that Snitch if it's the last thing you do."

Harry nodded, though he was equally determined not to catch the Snitch until Draco had at least a couple of goals under his belt, even if that meant he had to bat the Snitch away instead of catching it in order to give his pale friend more time.

They strode onto the pitch amidst the announcement of their names and uproarious cheers from the stands. The team captains shook hands and shared poisonous looks, and then ...

"On my whistle," said Madam Hooch. "Three ... two ... one ..."

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the fourteen players rose toward the leaden sky. Harry flew higher than any of them, squinting around for the Snitch. While he didn't want to make a quick catch, he certainly didn't want the Slytherin Seeker to find it first.

The Gryffindor Chasers took first possession of the Quaffle and were racing toward the Slytherin side.

Harry caught sight of his friend, who was looking slightly greener than was usual for the blond.

"Yoo hoo, Drakeypoo!" Harry called with a damsel worthy wave. The pale boy turned and managed a weak smirk. "Don't forget, we have tea with Hagrid after the game, so don't get hurt!"

Draco seemed to calm and broke into a full smirk this time. He was just about to reply, but Harry couldn't wait around to hear it, at that very moment, a heavy black Bludger came pelting toward him. Harry veered to the left, saving himself so narrowly he felt his ungelled hair ruffle as it passed.

"Close one, Harry!" George yelled, streaking passed him to give the Bludger a powerful whack with his bat, but the Bludger changed direction midair and shot straight for Harry again.

Harry put on a burst of speed and shot toward the other end of the pitch; he could hear the Bludger zooming along behind him all the while. Harry chewed on his lip and began to worry; the Bludgers were supposed to unseat as many people as possible, not concentrate on a single player. He wanted to start scanning the stands, looking for behaviour reminiscent of their former Defence Professor, but the Bludger's attentions wouldn't allow it.

Fred was waiting for the rampaging ball at the other end and swung his bat just as Harry scooted out of the way, catching the ball in the spot Harry's head was at just a moment before.

"Gotcha!" Fred yelled, but he was wrong. The Bludger didn't get thirty feet away before it zoned in on Harry again.

To top things off, it had started to rain. Harry had wanted his hair and robes to ripple in the wind, billowing behind him as he flew through the air, but instead heavy wet globules had plastered his hair to his head and soaked his uniform through.

He was kept so busy weaving and dodging, that he had no chance to look for the Snitch. In fact, he hadn't a clue what was going on with the game until he heard the commentator, Lee Jordan, shout, "Malfoy scores! Slytherin now lead 60 nil. The Gryffindors will have to put on some steam if they want to catch up."

The Bludger would not relent and soon George was signalling their captain for a timeout. Madam Hooch's whistle rang out and Harry and the twins dove for the ground, dodging the Bludger as it went in for one last attack.

"What the bloody hell's going on?" Wood bellowed as the Gryffindor team huddled together. "We're the Quidditch Cup holders and we're being flattened! F 'n G, our girls have been alone out there this whole game! Where were you when that Bludger stopped Angelina scoring just now?"

"We were twenty feet above her, stopping the other Bludger from taking Harry's head off, Oliver," George yelled back, giving Harry's shoulder a squeeze. "The damn thing's been tampered with - "

"- It won't leave Harry alone - " Fred continued.

"- It hasn't gone for anyone else all game, no matter what direction we hit it - "

"- It just turns around and heads straight for Harry!" the two finished together.

Madam Hooch was walking toward them with the Slytherin team following close behind to eavesdrop.

"That Bludger is attacking my Seeker!" Wood glared before she could restart the game.

"Did the balls behave strangely at your last practice?" Madam Hooch asked with a worried frown. Oliver shook his head. "Gryffindor had them last, and they've been locked in my office since then. I didn't detect any damage to my wards when I retrieved the balls today, but Bludger's can get a bit frisky after an extended time between actual game play," Madame Hooch mused. "If you want to ask for an inquiry ..."

"And forfeit the match?" Oliver cried out, "Never!" The Gryffindor team groaned behind him.

Madame Hooch nodded and signalled that they had thirty seconds left of their timeout. She turned to wait with an eye on her watch and the whistle ready on her lips.

"Fred," Oliver hurried, "Protect our Chasers. George, stick with Harry. Harry forget about the Bludgers and find that bloody Snitch!"

And with that, the whistle sounded and the players returned to the air.

Draco held Harry back before he was very high off the ground, "Is someone trying to kill you again?" he asked with a voice tinged with incredulity.

"Probably," Harry peeped.

"Oh bother, then finish this, Harry!" Draco glared, "Fast!"

The game continued on far longer than Harry would have liked. George was about ready to fall off his broom and Harry was long passed frantic when he finally spotted the coveted glint of gold.

"George!" he shrieked, "Follow me!" and he was off. He flew like he had Yoo Hoo himself on his tail and indeed, he could hear George just behind him clobbering the malevolent Bludger nearly every second.

Harry bit his lip with desperate resolve, he had to end the game now, neither he nor George had the strength or energy to play on much further. He leaned forward, and reached out ... and waved the golden Snitch like a beacon of hope.

Not knowing whether his attacker would take heed of Madam Hooch's endgame whistle, Harry and George flew as fast as they could to the ground. The other Gryffindors were close behind, with the Slytherins following suit.

Fred and George still had their bats in hand and kept Harry snug between them, just in case, though Harry was much too fraught with worry and exhaustion to even enjoy the closeness much.

Both teams turned to see where the Bludger was. It had taken to the sky and hovered in the centre of the pitch. With an ear bursting sound, the Bludger exploded in a sea of terrible green light. A liquid stream of crimson followed and after a moment a message was clear:

**ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE!**

The entire staff in attendance were already hurrying onto the pitch, many with wands out investigating or attempting to remove the skywriting.

"This is becoming tradition with you," George said, "Being attacked in the Slytherin match."

Draco huddled with the Gryffindor team and they waited as the stands emptied and the crowd spilled onto the pitch to wonder at the message still in the sky.

Though the logic wasn't sound, the Slytherin captain had just begun to protest that yet another Slytherin/Gryffindor match was ended unfairly due to attempts on 'that scrawny little Seeker's' life, when the rest of Harry's Gryffindor friends arrived with Hagrid. Gregory appeared just moments after from the Slytherin side.

"Not to worry, not to worry, everyone," a pompous voice approached from behind. "I know just the incantation to remove this. If only I had arrived sooner I could have prevented this disaster!" The glittering man assumed a jaunty pose and drew his wand with a flourish once eyes had turned his way.

"Put your worthless wand away, Gilderoy," a dark sneer answered. "Utterly useless excuse for a wizard."

"We must follow procedure and let our Charms Master have a go," Professor McGonagall stepped in with rather more tact, "Before we trouble your, ahem, _expertise_."

"Ah, of course, I wouldn't want to steal the show," Lockhart bowed, but upon rising, raised his wand again, "Ah, Harry, there's a spot of blood on you, Quidditch can be dangerous when you haven't been properly instructed, I can fix that up in a flash."

"I just bit my lip!" Harry cried out. "I'm fine!" The team hurried to the change-rooms, safely away from Lockhart's incompetence.

"I said away, Lockhart!" Snape sneered again, and clasped his long bony fingers around the Defence professor's adorned wrist.

Lockhart blanched and lowered his arm, deciding instead to bother Professor Flitwick as he worked.

"Moron!" Ron shouted at the wizard's retreating back, and received in return his first, and quite possibly his last, approving nod from the Potions Master.

The crimson letters were dispelled with quick work -

"A good show, Professor," Lockhart said with a wink, "Not the way I would have done things, but I can't expect you to have come in such close contact with the Dark and the dangerous as I have."

- and the pitch was quickly beginning to empty. With much cause for concern, Hagrid elected to wait on the pitch for Harry and Draco, and sent the others on ahead to start the kettle for hot chocolate.

When the two boys emerged from the change-rooms, Hagrid engulfed them both in fierce hugs and led them back to his hut.

"And'ere I thought yeh were goin' ta keep out a trouble this year," Hagrid ruffled Harry's hair. "Yeh did well today, little dainty, and you too, Draco. Four goals in yer very firs' match! An' against Oliver Wood, no less. He'll be playin' professional when 'e finishes up 'ere, so that's no small task."

Harry and Draco beamed.

Once warmed with cocoa and fresh cupcakes, talk turned from the game to the endgame message.

"_Enemies of the heir, beware_," Gregory mumbled to himself, while patting Neville's shivering shoulders.

"You think it's a threat?" Ron asked.

"Considering someone tried to kill Harry today," Draco sneered, "And the mud on the walls last week, I think we can safely call it a threat."

"Or a warning," Neville trembled.

"Neville has a point," Hermione nodded. "You don't let people know you're going to attack beforehand. You surprise them so they don't have a chance to fight back."

"Unless they're trying to scare us."

"Now you all don' worry yerselves over this," Hagrid said, "The Professors will take care of everythin.'"

"Do you think I should bake George a soufflé?" Harry gushed with starry eyes on their way back to the castle. "I bet he saved my life today, he was _so_ brave! Fighting off that blasted Bludger, he was amazing," he finished with a dreamy spin and a quick skip.

"Harry," Ron rolled his eyes, "We're at school, where are you going to bake a cake?"

"The Muggle Studies room, silly," Harry rolled his eyes, "Obviously!"

Harry spent the evening in linked elbows with the twins, fluttering his lashes at the both of them and regaling the common room with his first person account of the twins' team efforts and then George's one man ongoing rescue. Both twins grinning and guffawing at Harry's obvious, and oft outlandish embellishments.

Finally, but much too soon for Harry's liking, Ron and Neville dragged him away and to their dorm-room.

"Late night tomorrow, Cupcake," Ron smirked, "You need your rest."

oo00O00oo

It was nearing one in the morning when the boys tiptoed out of the dorm the following night. Hermione was already waiting with the fire burning bright and warm.

"Do you have the card, Harry?" she asked.

Harry nodded and handed it to her. It was cream coloured and looked rather innocuous, and was inscribed on the front:

_Axelrod's: Purveyors of Fine Goods_

Floo to: Axelrod's, London 

_Business hours from 9 - 6 daily_

On the back was hand written with precise script:

_Private/after-hours:_

_Axelrod's, Knockturn, Goods and Necessities_

"Alright then," she sighed. Harry tossed a pinch of Draco's stash of Floo powder into the fire and announced the after-hours address. Moments later, the chestnut locks and purple eyes appeared.

"Good evening Mister Cole," the handsome face cast a swoon worthy smirk into the flames.

"Good evening, Mister Axelrod?" Harry peeped, unsure if that was even the handsome man's name. "My friends and I have a couple questions we were hoping you could help us with."

Mister Axelrod nodded.

"One of my friends knows more about this, so it'll be better if you speak with him."

Mister Axelrod smiled, "Certainly not."

Harry glanced at his friends whose excited faces were fading to worried frowns. Draco paused halfway through moving to take Harry's spot, and unsure what to do, stayed in his tableau until Ron yanked him back to the floor to sit down.

"If your friend is there, he can surely advise you, but I will speak to you and you alone at this time."

Draco finally nodded his agreement and Harry turned back to the fire.

"Er, well, right then," he gave himself a wiggle and tried to get himself collected. He had dealt with the purple-eyed man before, surely this would be no different. With a harrumph and a shoulder shimmy, he was ready. "Well Mister Axelrod," he forced a grin, "We've got a nasty length of a shed basilisk skin on our hands, but what we really need is mandrake root. Any ideas?"

"Where, may I ask, did you procure a shed basilisk skin?" the purple eyes seemed to twinkle.

"Eeep!" Harry exclaimed, Draco had given him a firm pinch on the thigh and could be seen glaring and shaking his head. "Er, does it matter?" Harry asked.

"No," the purple-eyed man grinned, "For what purpose do you intend to use the mandrake root?"

"And does that matter?" Harry tried again.

"Yes," was the firm reply.

Draco quirked his brow in thought and then nodded.

"We know someone that has been petrified by a basilisk and we need mandrake to restore him. Super fast. Super duper fast."

"A qualified brewer?"

"Already lined up," Harry quipped with a wink.

"The person petrified," the purple-eyed man tapped slender fingers in the fire, "Am I to assume that he is your size?"

"Bigger than me, about twice my size actually."

"I see," Mister Axelrod continued, "And the length of skin in your supply?"

"We, eeeek!" Harry squealed as his thigh was pinched yet again. Draco was shaking his head with panicked eyes. Harry thought fast. "Er, how much basilisk skin would you need to cover the cost of the mandrake root?"

The man nodded, "Very good, Mister Cole. Between the mandrake root and my fee for dealing in such matters, 15 feet of undamaged skin should do nicely."

Harry had never witnessed Uncle Vernon do anything as savvy as bargain a price, he merely demanded and then bullied, and Draco's previous dealings for their wand holsters over the summer didn't provide nearly enough instruction. As it was, even with the damage the rooster caused, they easily had Mister Axelrod's desired amount and more.

"Deal," Harry nodded with a grin and shrug.

"Good. Now, if you have someone available I will discuss with them the arrangements and preparations for our transaction."

Harry pushed out his bottom lip in confusion and looked once again to Draco, who after a moment, smirked and nodded, elbowing Ron in the side to edge him forward.

"Okay," Harry agreed. The purple-eyed man gave him a knee wobbling wink and wished him well before Harry turned the Floo over to Ron.

"Everything okay?" Harry pouted once Ron closed the connection.

"Perfect," Ron grinned. "That was brilliant, mate! We'll have the mandrake by Friday."

"What was that about, do you think?" Harry continued to pout, "Why did he stop talking to me?"

"That's how things get handled with my father most of the time," Draco puffed out his chest. "This is good, Cupcake, it means you're in a position to not have to do the dirty work."

"Oh great," Ron flushed, "You pushed me forward to be the guy who does the dirty work? Thanks, Malfoy."

"Well it certainly wasn't going to be me!" Draco smirked.

Harry's eyes glittered wickedly, "I suppose Draco's right, Ron. I mean, really, if I do grow up to be a super sexy dark lord, it probably means you'll have to do a lot of stuff like that. You did call Second-in-Command."

Ron's glare turned back to a grin while Draco turned aghast with protest.


	11. The Duelling Club

**Chapter 11 - The Duelling Club**

Harry awoke Monday morning and paused. Something seemed, well, decidedly odd. He poked in front of him and found Draco in his now customary spot curled up at his chest. But if Draco was _here_, then who was _there?_  
"Neville?" Harry turned to find the boy wide awake and blushing. "What's wrong?"

"I had scary dreams," he answered.

"Oh, dear," Harry frowned, "Are you alright?"

Neville nodded but his watery eyes led Harry to spend the next few minutes smoothing the round-faced boy's hair. Finally, Neville seemed fully collected, so the boys got out of bed to start their day, the first steps in their inch by inch progression toward the end of the week, the impending Mandrake arrival heavy on their minds.

Ron and Gregory picked up on Harry's cue and kept an eye on Neville throughout the day, keeping close to the boy and injecting levity into the group's discussions when it seemed he had ventured too far into faraway thought.

Professor Snape had just finished his latest tirade about Neville's ineptitude and Harry's attitude when Neville's trembling hand spilled the peppered slugs he was measuring for his and Hermione's cauldron. "How can you work so well with him yelling all the time?" Neville snivelled to Harry, trying to keep his composure while Hermione added the next ingredient. 

Harry gave the boy a naughty grin, and stirred his own potion with a shimmy, "Ignore the yelling, and look at the eyes."

"They're cold and scary."

"And dark and mysterious," said Harry with a shiver. "He's the rough and tumble rugged pirate and I'm the beautiful serving wench."

"Pie-rat?" Neville asked.

"Pirate. It's a muggle bad guy but in a naughty little costume, and on a boat!"

"I don't like boats."

"The point is," Harry rolled his eyes and grinned impishly, "They're _supposed_ to be mean and no matter what you do they're going to _stay_ mean, so get used to it, ignore it, and have fun with it."

A hand slammed onto Neville's work station causing the whole row of Gryffindors and Slytherins to jump.

"What is the meaning of this!" Snape glowered behind them.

"You're the pirate and I'm the beautiful wench!" Neville burst out in a tremble.

Snape's eyes widened, and he sputtered out a cough, but he backed away without giving them detention.

"I think you scared him off," Ron whispered, "Good on you, Neville."

Harry sauntered into the library late the next day after an evening's detention, and found most of the group convened in their usual spot.

"Where's Neville?" he questioned.

"Potions' detention from last week," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, he's with Mister Filch."

"Good," Harry gushed, "That'll give us a chance to talk. We absolutely need to do something about the little imp!"

Hermione sighed, "I know, he's going to worry himself sick." 

"Neville?" Ron shrugged, "Nah, he's just delicate and such. He'll be fine."

"He won't be fine until this nasty business is settled," Harry argued.

"Neville needs to feel safe again," Hermione said. "The basilisk, Vincent, the mud on the walls, and now the Bludger incident, this has all been very distressing for him. But I don't know what we can do to help."

"Neville needs a brave strong knight in shining armour to protect and take care of him," Harry let out a dreamy sigh and reached over to clap Gregory on the shoulder, "And until he can find one, maybe _you _could do it."

"What?" Gregory squawked. "What do you mean?"

Ron caught Harry's eye and shared a quick nod, "He means you should put the moves on Neville, Greg," he smirked.

"The moves?" Gregory squawked again.

"Well sure," Harry nodded and shimmied his shoulders, "You've got _moves_, don't you?"

"Well," Gregory began, "Sure I guess."

"Moves that _don't_ involve waving spastically or sending owl greetings each morning, that is," Draco smirked as the large boy's eyes darted to Harry.

"Er," Gregory blushed, "No moves then."

The group spent the next twenty four hours with each moment seeming to drag on for centuries, while at the same time speeding by faster than a shooting star.

Hermione was nearly giddy with the thought of exploring Salazar Slytherin's own private Hogwarts abode and couldn't stop exclaiming.

"There are mentions in _Hogwarts, a History_," she whispered during dinner, "About Slytherin claiming to have an area in the castle he kept hidden from the other founders, but it's said to be a myth! The castle has been searched time and again and nothing has ever been found."

"You don't really think that bathroom sink room is what the book is talking about, do you?" Ron snorted, "It was just his bedroom we figure. I mean, honestly, Cupcake found it in under an hour. Some secret."

"Yes but Harry's a parselmouth," Hermione hushed with an exasperated frown, "Just like Slytherin was. If only a parselmouth can get in and out of the sink, then who but a handful of people in the last thousand years could have found it?"

Dinner finished and the group headed straight to the bathroom in question. Ron took his command post by the sink entrance, while Harry climbed up onto its neighbour and perched daintily. A turned knob and a quick spell locked the door from the inside, so the others relaxed and sprawled around the room waiting for the go ahead. After catching each of their eyes in turn, and then giving the group a quick wink, Harry leaned over and 'sss'ed' the sink open.

"Alright guys," Ron started, "We'll be back out before curfew, but someone needs to stay behind to get the professors in case something goes wrong."

"Maybe _you_ could do that, Neville?" Harry widened his eyes at Neville, who nodded readily.

"I'll, er," Greg blushed, "I'll stay here with Neville. I've already been down the sink. I don't have to go down again."

"Well I'm not going down the slime tunnel again if _they_ don't have to go!" Draco raised his chin from his wall leaning next to Harry.

Harry gasped and elbowed the sneering boy in the side.

"Let's go, Malfoy," Ron grinned.

"Oh I see," Draco sneered as they dragged him toward the sink hole, "I have to ruin another set of robes just so Greg can be alone to put the moves on Neville. Fine!"

Hermione gasped and they stopped their progress to turn and see Neville's eyes attempt to jump out of his head and Gregory flush to scarlet.

With the basilisk dead, the ride down the sink tunnel was filled with joyful exclamations of glee, whoops, wees, and hoots of delighted peril. Once all four passengers had exited the ride and collected themselves they took a few moments to explore the underground expanse with the fear free eyes they lacked the first time round.

"This place is disgusting!" Draco wrinkled his nose.

"And it's stinky!" Harry added with a wiggle.

"We'll have to learn some cleaning spells," Hermione frowned.

"Cleaning spells!" Draco exclaimed, "You lot can only push me so far, if you want this place clean, you'll either do it yourselves, without my help, or you'll be sensible and just order the house-elves to do it for us."

"I'm with Malfoy," Ron agreed, "I don't want to be sweeping up century old rat bones anytime soon."

After sparing the dead, though thankfully, not at all decomposing basilisk a cursory glance and poke, they followed what was already a familiar path and were soon ankle deep in animal bones and in view of the enormous figure they came for, which was curved on the ground before them. It was crumpled near the middle, where it had encountered Harry's panic tossed rooster, but was otherwise fine.

Hermione worked a clever little charm that measured and cut the basilisk's skin at the required length, and helped the other three fold it into a neat bundle.

"Now the fun part," Ron grinned. They headed forward again and enjoyed Hermione's gasp as Harry parted the dead-end with a hissed command.

"This is," Hermione sputtered and gazed about, "This is amazing!

Do you have any idea what we could do in here?"

Ron caught Harry's eye, "Here it comes," he mouthed.

"We could have a practice area and learn all our spells, and a study spot, and a library section, we could even set up a potion's area and a -" she paused and frowned at the smirks and snorts being cast around her. "Oh fine then, you could probably fly around in here when it's too cold or rainy on the Quidditch pitch."

"That's more like it!" Ron whooped.

Not wanting to worry their friends, they didn't stop to dawdle longer than was necessary to give the room and statue a quick exploration. Soon they were back in the dungeons outside the Slytherin dorms once again.

"We'll go grab Neville and Greg," Harry volunteered, grabbing onto Ron's arm. "You two get the skin back to the dorms and we'll meet you there."

Much to Ron and Harry's surprise, the sink hole was closed up tight when they arrived back in Myrtle's bathroom.

"How?" Ron sputtered.

"It just closed up by itself," Neville answered, "Just a little bit after you went."

Harry and Ron shared thoroughly horrified looks with each other.

"I guess it must have closed up after I went through the last time too," Harry trembled and squirmed, "I mean, I did have to open it again tonight."

"Imagine if it hadn't though?" Ron was equally flushed and nerve-wracked, "I didn't even think to come back for you to close it that night. Anyone could have got in!"

Harry shivered at the thought, "We're going to have to start being more careful. It's a good thing Slytherin was more paranoid than we've been."

That settled, the two boys took in the scene before them. Neville was sitting rather closer to Gregory than was necessary. And indeed, Gregory's arm certainly had no essential purpose lingering, if awkwardly, across Neville's shoulders.

"Well," Harry grinned wickedly, while Ron attempted, rather unsuccessfully to hide a snort behind his hands. "Are you two coming back to Gryffindor with us, or are you going to go back alone together in the positively empty Slytherin dorms?"

Both boys blushed Weasley red and scrambled to their feet to follow Ron and Harry back to the Gryffindor commons.

oo00O00oo

Harry was woken up Friday morning by a sharp peck to his pinkie toe. Sure enough, an imperious looking owl was perched at the foot of Harry's place on the bed, a large bundle resting before him.

"Yea!" Harry cheered and woke the others up.

"What's that?" Seamus asked from further down the bed.

"None of your business!" Draco glared.

"Draco!" Harry exclaimed. "It's Potions ingredients," he answered honestly.

"I've blown most of mine up," Neville added with equal truth.

Once Seamus and Dean had both left to shower, Ron collected the package and opened it up.

"Is that the mandrake then?" Gregory awed. The other boys shrugged and turned to Neville.

"Chop chop then," Harry urged, "You're the expert."

Neville beamed at the praise and turned his eyes to the prize before him. Finally he nodded, "I think its right. It's chopped for shipping but if you look closer you can see that it's, well errm ... that part there is the back half of a foot." The boys gasped and looked closer. Indeed, an ankle could be distinguished, sloping into the round of a heel. "And I think this might be its bottom."

"Goodness, that's creepy," Harry shivered, the others agreed.

The boys felt that showers were in order, and hurried off to have them. They readied quickly and waited for Ron to complete the transaction by sending off the basilisk skin before scrambling to the common room to meet Hermione.

"Well?" she pressed, "Did it arrive?"

The boys were reluctant to look at the mandrake parts again but handed the package over for Hermione's curious eyes.

"I suppose it looks like the book said it would," she said. "It could be a mandrake."

"Neville already checked it," Draco smirked. "If he says it's the real thing, then it is."

Hermione frowned, but faced with the array of grins, smirks, and snorts turned her way, she conceded the blushing boy's superiority in Herbology and nodded stiffly. "Well, did you touch it or smell it?"

Neville gave a Cupcake worthy wiggle, as if covered in the ickies, and shook his head adamantly.

"Then how do we know if it's usable?" she worried.

"We'll let Snape decide that," Draco sneered to cover his discomfort at the thought of actually touching the dismembered mandrake. "He'll know better than we do if it's good or not, and you know _he_ won't care about touching the disgusting parts."

"But if it isn't any good, we shouldn't have to send the basilisk skin, should we?" Hermione frowned.

"Considering who we were dealing with, I don't think we had a choice about that," Ron said. "Besides, we already sent it off to him."

"I just have a bad feeling we're being taken advantage of," Hermione said.

"How? What if this is really good stuff? Fact is, he took a big risk sending it. We could easily use it and not pay him."

"Doesn't that seem odd to you? That he would trust us like that?"

"It doesn't matter," Gregory said, "We should get this to Professor Snape right away."

"No way!" Ron sputtered. "I say we take it to Pomfrey, we can be pretty sure she won't try to torture answers out of us."

The others agreed and were soon hurrying to the infirmary, hoping to be in and out quickly so as not to miss breakfast.

Madam Pomfrey was easily found, bustling about the white walled room pushing a tray of empty potion vials.

"Here to see Mister Crabbe?" she smiled behind her brisk tone.

"Just to say hello," Neville said.

Ron hoisted the wrapped mandrake up and edged Harry forward.

"Actually," Harry bit his bottom lip nervously, "We brought this for Vincent. So he wouldn't have to wait all year for Professor Sprout's plants to grow."

Madam Pomfrey's eyes went wide as she peered into the pouch that had been hoisted into her arms.

"Is it usable?" Hermione worried.

"Very," Madam Pomfrey stated firmly. "And more than enough I imagine. Professor Snape will get to it right away, which means young Mister Crabbe should be out of the infirmary Sunday evening."

They visited with Vincent for a few minutes, catching the petrified boy up on the latest gossip and letting him know that he'd be awake in a matter of days.

The group immersed themselves in a contented high with the various excitements of the last two weeks finally coming to a conclusion. They had dealt with a Knockturn merchant and come out both unscathed and with the merchandise they needed. They had made it into and out of Salazar's secret room yet again. Neville and Gregory were busy smiling and waving at each other, and Vincent looked set to awaken.

With these thoughts in mind, Harry turned to Ron to give his friend a silly grin as their Charms class wound down. His grin fast turned to a grimace when the Charms door opened to allow Professor Snape's sweeping robes.

"Ergh," Ron groaned, "What's that greasy bat doing here?"

"Potter!" Professor Snape bellowed at the end bell, "You and your insipid fan club are to stay behind."

The group shared wary looks and huddled at the door.

"Where did you get that supply of mandrake?"

Harry grinned cheekily at the glowering man. "A friend sent it to help Vincent. Was it okay?"

The sallow skin paled further, leaving the Potions Master with a distinctly rotten lemon appearance. "Where did you get it!"

"A friend, Vincent is very well liked," Harry peeped, losing his grin in a flash.

"I assure you, Mister Crabbe is not 'well liked' nor even known by those with such connections," Snape's voice dropped to a terrifying whisper, "Where did you get that mandrake!"

The group shared terrified looks.

"Well Vincent may not have friends in such places," Harry burst out, losing all reason to anger and panic, "But you can't say the same of me. Let _me_ assure _you, _Professor Snape, being the _Boy-Who-Lived_ comes with many perks." And with that the group turned and all but ran out of the classroom.

oo00O00o

Since the night in Myrtle's bathroom, Neville had slept facing the other direction, leaving Harry to wake up confusion free. He turned to peek at Neville and found him cuddled up to Gregory who was snoring lightly on his other side. With a quick but quiet giggle at the ever nervous pair, Harry crawled out of bed. 

"Quidditch?" Draco drawled with annoyance, having been woken up by the sudden draught at his back. Unlike Harry, Draco was prone to waking up the whole bed when he left for morning practices, so as to ensure that everyone knew just where he was going, and how prestigious it was.

"Harry!" Ron was standing by the locker room after practice and waved down the small boy. 

Harry skipped over to his friend. "You watched me fly?" he beamed.

"Yeah," Ron grinned, "But I actually wanted to talk to you about something. Er. Alone."

Harry, who had spent a ridiculous amount of time and energy flirting with the mischievous twins while in the sky, frowned, "Is this about Fred and George?"

Ron snorted, "No, this is important. Meet me on the pitch after your shower?"

Harry nodded and headed inside to wash up.

The two settled on the low stands in the Gryffindor quadrant.

"Look," Ron started. "I, well, er."

"Is something the matter, Ron?" Harry widened his eyes with concern.

"No!" Ron exclaimed, "It's just. Well, hear me out before you say no, alright?"

Harry nodded.

"It's just, see. I've been thinking."

"You want to be my boyfriend, don't you?" Harry exclaimed and clapped his hands together with glee, "I _knew_ it!"

"What?" Ron yelled. "What! I, Harry!"

Harry burst into giggles, "Well you're stammering worse than Colin Creevey does when _he_ asks me to be _his_ boyfriend, what else am I to think?"

"Creevey did what!" Ron glared. "When?"

"Yesterday, and twice last week," Harry grimaced. "Actually this time he asked me to _'be his cupcake.'_ Can you believe the nerve of him?"

"He's not even in our year!" Ron said. "I'll have a word with him."

"Don't bother," Harry rolled his eyes. "I think Yoo-Hoo himself could 'have a word' with him, and he'd still follow me around." The two paused at the reminder and gave the pitch and surrounding area a quick glance, a peek through the slats in the stands to see beneath ensured that Colin was no where to be found.

"Now," Harry continued, "If _you_ don't want to _be my cupcake_, then what is this about?"

"I want to Floo Mister Axelrod again," Ron burst out.

"Whatever for?" Harry gasped.

"It's like you said, maybe he'll know what to do with basilisk parts."

Harry widened his eyes again, "But Hermione said -"

"Yeah, I know," Ron groaned. "And if everyone thought it was too dangerous before, they'd never consider it now Vincent's got his potion."

"But Vincent _does _have his potion, so why ever would you want to do this?"

"It just seems stupid to be poor when there's a goldmine sitting there doing nothing," Ron blushed, "Besides, you're the only one who can even get down there, you and whoever set it loose in the first place. What if _they_ decide to sell the parts? They shouldn't get rich after all the work _we_ did."

Harry took a deep breath and nibbled his bottom lip. He had to agree, it would be nice to have enough money that he wouldn't have to worry about his living arrangements and such. And it would be nicer than strawberry lip-gloss if the Weasleys had a little extra.

"What will you tell your mum and dad?" Harry wondered.

"I figure I'd see if I could open a Gringott's account just for me, and make anonymous deposits into Mum and Dad's vault. Mister Axelrod would know how to do all that."

"Is it fair for just us to sell the parts though?" Harry worried, "Draco and Gregory were down there with us that night. They have as much right to the money as we do, don't they? And Vincent and the others too."

"They would never agree to do it though," Ron argued, "And then they'd never let us go back down there without them. We can think of a way to make it fair. Don't you see? If we tell them, they'll say no, and then it's over."

"I don't know, Ron," Harry pouted, "They wouldn't be unreasonable saying it was too dangerous. You know Hermione's always right about these things."

"Yeah, I know. Look, you don't need to do it too if you don't want to," Ron hurried, "I'd rather you did, but if you don't want to, I just need you to open the sink for me and -"

"_Ron,_" Harry hushed, "I wouldn't send you down there to do something I thought was too dangerous for me to do as well!"

"So you're saying no?" Ron's shoulders fell.

"No," Harry hugged his friend, "Let's talk to Mister Axelrod and if it sounds okay, we'll try it. But if even _he_ seems iffy, then we'll have to let it go."

"Tomorrow night?" Ron said. "Vincent should be awake tomorrow and everyone will be tired from celebrating, so we'll be sure to have a chance to get away."

"Alright then," Harry nodded, shivering with anticipation at the thought of seeing the purple-eyed man again so soon.

Vincent awoke the following evening, and couldn't believe it when Madam Pomfrey informed him that over two weeks had passed.

Nor could he believe the celebration going on in the Slytherin common room that was being held in his honour.

"This is for me?" he awed suspiciously then dropped his mouth open in further shock when he first noticed Draco and Gregory chatting amiably.

"You've gone a bit peaky, Vincent," Harry worried.

"Cupcake?" Vincent floundered then staggered to see a blushing but bold Neville slip his hand into Gregory's.

"A lot has happened since you were petrified, Vincent," Harry rubbed circles on the large boy's back, "Don't worry, you'll get used to everything."

It was well after curfew when the party died down and the group convened to wish Hermione a goodnight and decide who would escort the bushy-haired girl back to Gryffindor.

"We'll go," Ron and Harry jumped in, and scrambled to get themselves and Hermione under the invisibility cloak before anyone could argue.

"Leaving Neville in the snake pit, are we?" Draco smirked.

"Greg will take care of him," Harry winked.

"We'll be back in a bit," Ron said and dropped the edge of the cloak so the three were covered completely. They hurried out of the Slytherin dorms and swept through the halls with few words.

The Gryffindor commons was empty, much to their relief. Hermione bid them both goodnight and warned them to be careful on the way back lest they be caught by the ever vigilant duo of Snape and Filch, the latter had been slightly off his game since the death of Mrs Norris but was compensating by storming the halls at all hours and awarding detentions of record severity.

A few quick, whispered words and wand swishes, and the boys were kneeling in front of a roaring green flame and waiting for a gorgeous visage to appear in the grate.

"Young Mister Cole," the man tilted an elegant nod, "I expect you were pleased with your merchandise of late?"

Harry nodded.

"How then, may I help you this evening?"

"Is there any market for basilisk parts?" Harry whispered nervously.

"There is a market, certainly, as evidenced by your success with the basilisk skin."

"…"

"Mr Cole, are you looking to buy, or sell?"

"Sell!" Harry squeaked.

Mr Axelrod erupted in a charming gale of laughter, "Very ambitious, Mister Cole. But as much as I would love to be the sole liaison for a basilisk owner's dealings, I would be remiss not to warn you about the dangers of both breeding and maintaining such creatures. You cannot have a petrifaction occur more than once without rousing suspicion, and truly, it will likely wind up killing you long before you have a chance to sell or even collect any of its blood."

"And if I happened to have a full grown dead one on my hands?"

"… Then we, Mister Cole, would be in an extremely lofty position."

"What do I do?"

Mister Axelrod frowned slightly and raised his hand, indicating for Harry to wait. After a moment the crease in his forehead smoothed. "Two mornings from now owls will deliver dragon hide uniforms, beakers, and directions outlining the proper way to safely exsanguinate and dismantle a basilisk. The uniforms and beakers will be heavily spelled and lined in industrial grade wizard mined diamond, so do not lose them or fool about with them. After your first delivery, I will send a Gringotts' key and details of the account I will be setting up in your name. I will deposit seventy percent of the proceeds. The other thirty percent will be retained to cover both the cost of dealing in such matters and my sellers fee."

Harry turned to see Ron shrug beside him. If the fees demanded by basilisk parts was anything compared to what they had found during their research, then losing thirty percent was fine with them, and really, the loss was more than worth it to work with someone they were sort of sure wasn't conspiring to sell them off as dragon food.

"Sounds good," Harry said.

"The equipment I'm sending is worth a small fortune in itself," the purple eyed man began, "If you change your mind at any time, the equipment is to be returned at once. I will be most displeased if you choose to do otherwise," he paused and let loose his feral grin. "Do you understand, _Mister Potter?_"

Harry gasped, and Ron let out a long string of expletives beside him.

"How did you know?" Harry sputtered.

The man smirked, "I should keep you frightened as punishment for your foolishness, but since you're about to increase my wealth significantly, I will tell you the truth. If you recall, you were on the cover of the Daily Prophet, just days after you and your companions were in my shop."

Harry blushed. "I forgot. Does that mean everyone will recognise me now?"

"Indeed," he answered. "Unless you can do better than a simple cloth about the head, you will not be returning to Knockturn Alley. When in your presence, that goes for your known companions as well. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry mumbled.

"Very good."

Harry squirreled his face, "That's why you trusted us to send the basilisk, isn't it? Because you'd have been able to use my identity against me?"

"Of course," the man smirked, "Consider it a test. Now, is your liaison available so I might arrange the owls and other details?"

"Yes, Mister Axelrod," Harry nodded, still stunned and awed. He bade the dreamy man a goodnight and let Ron step to the Floo.

The two spoke for some time before the flames returned to red.

"What took you so long?" Draco demanded when they slipped back into the Slytherin common room.

"We thought you'd been caught for sure!" Neville grinned and gave Harry a relieved hug.

"Almost," Harry fibbed, "Filch was poking about so we had to wait around until it was clear."

oo00O00oo

In a scene reminiscent of the previous week, the morning found the boys milling about a common room which was buzzing with dread and excitement. This time however, the exit was magically locked and the students were unable to leave.

Finally a seventh-year Prefect slipped into the room, "Listen up!" he snapped. "There has been an attack just outside our dormitory. Some Gryffindor kid was found in the hall this morning. I want you all to keep your eyes open and your wands out. Between the attack on our own second-year student, and this attack just outside our commons, assume that Slytherin is being targeted and proceed accordingly."

The dormitory full of Slytherins took a collective breath and as a group, seemed to narrow their eyes and adjust their stance just so.

"Paranoid lot, these Slytherins," Ron whispered to Harry.

"Furthermore," the Prefect continued, "Considering the number of Gryffindors we played host to last night, you can also assume that the other houses are going to treat this as Slyth on Gryff violence. Be prepared for some backlash." The Slytherins tilted their chins in a nod. "And finally, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and the Gryffindors, you're needed in the infirmary."

The boys gasped. They pounded down the halls and up flights of stairs until finally bursting through the infirmary doors.

"Hermione!"

"I'm here," she called and poked her head out of the back office.

After being lavished with relieved, robe crumpling hugs, the group calmed enough to notice both Heads of Houses and Madam Pomfrey eyeing them from posts in the cosy room.

"We heard about the attack," Draco nodded to his head of house. "We thought it was you, Hermione."

"No, not me," Hermione sighed, "Colin Creevey. Professor McGonagall thinks he snuck out of the dormitory to get to Vincent's party last night, to give him this," she tilted her chin at an item on Madam Pomfrey's desk. It was the group photo Colin had taken of them during the first week of school. They sat or perched, smiling and waving at the camera.

"Mister Potter, Mister Weasley," Professor McGonagall began, "Miss Granger informed us that you two had escorted her back to Gryffindor tower, but returned to Slytherin for the night. Did either of you see or hear anything or anyone, suspicious or otherwise when you returned?"

The boys shook their heads, all had seemed well.

"Spell residue indicates that he was attacked where he was found," Snape snarled, "Just outside the Slytherin entrance. You would have had to step over him had it taken place prior to your return to the dungeons. He was found this morning at 6am."

The boys paled, knowing what was coming.

"In order to narrow down the time of the attack, we must know what time it was that you returned to the dungeons, Potter?" he continued with an evil gleam, "This is not the time to lie."

The two boys cringed and prepared to deliver their detention worthy answer when a familiar chorus of bellows sent the infirmary walls trembling.

"Madam Pomfrey!"

The white-robed witch hurried out of the office toward the shouts of ail. She was followed closely by the students - at least two of which were breathing sighs of relief - and the professors.

Fred and George Weasley were standing next to the bed closest to the entrance, with George bent over slightly setting down his burden.

"Ginny!" Ron shouted.

"She's real light," George burst with frantic worry, "Like she doesn't weigh anything! I hardly knew I was carrying her."

Madam Pomfrey began casting diagnostic spells while Professor McGonagall rounded on the twins.

"What happened?" she asked between thin pressed lips.

"One of the first-year girls grabbed Percy in the common room shouting for help," Fred said in still breathless. "He followed her back and found Ginny in bed, and I guess he couldn't wake her up. He carried her down to the common room and handed her over to George. She was all pale and cold, but Percy said he had checked," he cleared his throat and paused, "For a pulse, and she had one. He sent us here, we ran all the way."

"Where is Prefect Weasley now?" Professor McGonagall's face was pale.

"He was rounding up the other Prefects to check all the dorms," George answered with a hint of pride, "To make sure no one else was injured."

They quieted and watched the nurse continue her spell work, calling on Snape's assistance on occasion. Long minutes passed before the room was filled with shouts once again.

"Mum!" the three Weasley boys called and leaped up from their places at Ginny's bedside. The Weasley matriarch had just arrived and scooped the rooms' redheads into her arms.

"You father is on his way," she muffled out from the middle of the Weasley bundle.

Madam Pomfrey stopped what she was doing to converse with Mrs Weasley about Ginny's condition.

Soon Ginny was being moved to a private area further in the infirmary, leaving the students and Mrs Weasley alone in the room. They stood or sat silently until Mrs Weasley turned to Ron.

"These are your friends, Ron?" she rubbed his back.

"Yeah," Ron said, still pale and worried. He cleared his throat, "Er, Mum, you remember Harry, of course, and Malfoy and Hermione? And this is Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Neville Longbottom."

Mrs Weasley, though frightened out of her wits, was true to form with her warmth and kindness, greeting Harry with a hug and kiss, and the others with a smile and nod. Finally she turned to Neville and placed both hands on his shoulders, giving him a warm but appraising look. She leaned toward him and whispered something in his ear that sent him bright red, beaming with happiness, and oddly teary eyed.

Arthur Weasley arrived shortly after, accompanied by Hogwarts' Head Boy and Girl. Another round of hugs and kisses and watery eyes took place before the professors returned to the room.

"Relatives may stay, the rest of you best get to class," McGonagall stated leaving no room for argument.

"Um," the head girl spoke up with a blush, "Classes have been cancelled."

"What?" Snape spat, "On whose authorisation?"

"Um," the head boy blushed as well. "Percy Weasley's."

"Alright Percy!" Fred and George cheered, before being silenced by Mrs Weasley's Snape worthy glare.

"All students are to remain in the common rooms and take meals there. The Professors and Prefects are to report to Headmaster Dumbledore's office so we can come to a course of action regarding the attacks. We need you to attend as well Madam Pomfrey, so we can better understand what we're dealing with. Prefect Weasley suggested that Mr and Mrs Weasley would be willing to remain in the hospital wing while you were gone, to guard the students?"

"Of course," Arthur answered.

"Thank you," the head boy nodded. "The Headmaster will see you as soon as the meeting is over."

"I'll expect you three to lay wait in the _Slytherin_ dorms," Snape scowled at Draco.

"I'm sorry Professor Snape," the head girl took a step back, distancing herself from the vicious professor. "The Gryffindors are expecting them. We thought it best to keep that lot together so they don't get themselves into trouble trying to sneak to the others' dorms."

The entire contingent of Gryffindors and Slytherins looked personally affronted by that comment, though with the invisibility cloak and all, it did seem a likely scenario.

"If you lot are ready," the head girl said to the students, "We'll escort you back to Gryffindor tower."

The students nodded and hugged Ron who would be staying behind. They followed the Head Boy and Girl into the hall and were trailed by their Heads of House who had the security meeting to attend.

"A moment, Mister Potter," Professor McGonagall said as they walked. The two drifted to the back of the pack. "What time did you arrive back at the Slytherin dorms?"

Harry reddened, "Close to one in the morning, Professor."

"I see," she frowned. "Since you technically, were not caught, I won't assign detention, but do not expect this sort of leniency in the future."

"Thank you, Ma'am," Harry breathed in relief.

Ron returned to the Gryffindor dorms in time for dinner, which was mainly a silent affair. They huddled in a corner of the common room and picked listlessly at their puddings.

"Do they know what happened to Ginny yet?" Harry peeped quietly.

"Not really," Ron said. "They can't find a trace of any spells or curses. She doesn't look like she's grown any thinner, but she barely weighs anything! And I swear, every once in a while it was like she would fade a bit or something, I could see right through her hand sometimes."

"They'll figure it out, Ron," Harry cooed.

Ron nodded but seemed unsure, "They connected the Floo in Madam Pomfrey's office to the Burrow, so Mum and Dad can visit more easily … and so they can get here fast, you know, if they have to."

The group shivered and all had tears in their eyes.

"They said she should be able to hear us though, so we're going to collect her homework and stuff and read her the lessons each day. And that's another thing," Ron flushed with anger. "I don't think Ginny even has any friends, nobody came to ask about her or anything. How can that be?"

"Now that I think about it," Neville frowned, "Whenever I see her, she's by herself, doing homework or something."

"No," Hermione said, "It isn't parchment she's writing on, so not homework, at least when I've noticed anyway. She writes in a book."

"Her diary," Ron nodded then shook himself a bit. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

They sat in silence for a few moments.

"Hey!" Ron started again and looked to Neville, "What did Mum say to you in there anyway?"

Neville flushed and took long moments before answering quietly, "She said you'd spoken of me before and that my parents would be very proud … and that I should be proud of them too." He had squeaked out that last part and was now openly crying.

"Oh bollocks," Ron sighed, "Sorry Neville, I shouldn't have said anything."

Neville shook his head, "It's okay," he squeaked again. "It's just, hardly anyone wants to talk about them and when they do, it's just Gran or my aunts and uncles saying how I have so much to live up to or all the stuff my father had already done at my age. They always sound like I'm a big disappointment. No one's ever said they'd be proud of me before."

"Was it the war?" Hermione asked softly.

Neville shook his head, "Sort of. It was a little while after You-Know-Who was gone, but the Death Eaters still got them. They ... they're not well, they've been in St. Mungo's ever since."

The Slytherins shared ill looks, "It wasn't," Gregory started but trailed off.

"It wasn't any of our parents," Draco finished, "Was it?"

Neville shook his head, "No, they caught them and they're in Azkaban prison now. The Lestranges."

"But still," Vincent puzzled. After a pause he continued, "How come you two don't hate us?"

Neville and Harry locked wide eyes, "You're our friends," Neville said with a shrug.

"I'm going for a walk," Draco said and stood up.

"You can't!" Hermione exclaimed. Draco stopped and sneered before turning away from the portrait hole and stalking toward the boy's dorms.

"Why can't he go for a walk?" Ron asked.

"The Prefects were here earlier and said that the castle was still being searched and until they were done, all students were to stay in the common rooms," Hermione said. "Plus there are a bunch of new security measures in place."

Indeed the students had been instructed to travel in no less than pairs, regardless of where they were going; Quidditch practices now required teacher supervision; After curfew punishments were being doubled so as to further discourage sneaking out; And finally, to boost morale, and - ahem - further develop the students ability to protect themselves, Gilderoy Lockhart would be organising a duelling club.

"What?" Ron snorted, "That blowhard? It's not mandatory, is it?"

"Heavens to Betsy!" Harry exclaimed, "Of course not."

"I find it offensive, really," Hermione huffed, "Professor Flitwick is supposedly a former duelling champion, why couldn't he lead the club?"

"And then there's the Headmaster," Neville peeped still wiping his eyes, "And even Professor McGonagall, Gran says that she was a force to be reckoned with during You-Know-Who's time. Not to mention the other professors."

"And instead of any of them, we're stuck with the one professor in this bloody castle who doesn't know which end of a wand to hold," Ron groaned.

"Professor Snape is _his helper_," Gregory shook his head in disgust, "So us Slytherins will have to go anyway, to show support or something."

"I'm going to," Hermione agreed, "At least with Professor Snape there, we might manage to learn something. Anything."

Draco didn't return to the common room that evening and was ignoring everyone by pretending to be asleep with his head under a pillow when they had come up for bed.

As eagerly anticipated, an enormous bundle was delivered to Harry and Ron the next morning. It arrived well before dawn and in a great show of cunning, the delivery owls pecked Ron awake to receive the package, rather than waking Harry which would have woken Draco as well. With no guarantee of privacy, Ron crept out of bed and hurried the delivery into his trunk before climbing back in and returning to sleep.

"It came," he whispered to Harry as they sat for breakfast.

Harry gasped, "Did you see what was inside?"

"Couldn't," Ron mumbled from behind a mouthful of porridge, "We'll have to wait until we're back in the sink room."

Colin Creevey was released from the hospital wing after dinner that evening, and was welcome into the Gryffindor common room by an array of hoots and cheers. The small boy blushed and hurried over to check in with his favourite celebrity, current crush, and overall hero. His presence was, for once, not unwelcome by the Gryffindor Slytherin seven.

"Did you see who the scoundrel was?" Harry asked with wide eyes. "Did you get a good look at him?"

Colin nodded and basked in Harry's attention, "He was handsome," he fluttered, "He was just like you, Harry."

Ron rolled his eyes and huffed in annoyance, "Do you mean he was as handsome as Harry, you little twit, or that he looked like Harry?"

"Both!" Colin blushed, "Black hair and dreamy green eyes, creamy skin. But his hair was straighter and brushed to the side. And he was older too. I like your hair better, Harry."

"Older like a man? Or older like a Prefect?" Harry worried sharing looks with the others, could this be the new Dark Lord himself who attacked the first years?

"Older like a Prefect," Colin answered.

"What happened?"

"Well the Professors told me not to say anything, but I'm sure they didn't mean _you,_ Harry," Colin batted his lashes, "I'm sure telling you is okay."

Harry nodded his encouragement and kept himself from rolling his eyes.

"I had just reached where I thought the Slytherin entrance was and was looking around for where I could knock, when I heard someone laughing behind me. I turned around and there he was. I called out 'alright' and asked him if he could let me into the Slytherin common room. He took out his wand and then called me something strange -"

"A mudblood?" Ron whispered.

Colin nodded, "Yeah, that's right. And then he said 'maybe Potter will come and save you' and laughed again. Then he said something about a curio cabinet or something like that, and I got a big electric shock, like the time I tried to get my toast out of the toaster with my fork. Then he looked all angry and said something like 'Abracadabra!' and I almost giggled because I know that's just a muggle thing like Open Sesame, but by then this sort of green light had hit me and my nose started to bleed and then I guess I fainted or something because next I knew I was in the hospital wing."

Harry sent Colin up to bed soon after and turned to the worried faces around him. "What do you think?"

"Seems sort of odd that this Dark Lord's just some kid, doesn't it?" Vincent frowned. "You really think that's our guy?"

"That was probably just the agent the Dark Lord has here in the castle," Hermione nodded, "It could be one of the older students, or someone young that's sneaked in."

"But still," Ron gave an angry shrug, "Nosebleeds? Why did Ginny get put in a coma and Creevey just gets a shock and nosebleed? Why the change?"

Draco had gone pale during Colin's description of events and with a sudden jolt, hurried from their shadowy corner to the second year boy's dorm.

"Whatever has got into him these days?" Harry puzzled. They didn't have much time to ponder Draco's strange behaviour as he was soon rushing back down the stairs and settled into their enclave once again.

"What the bloody hell is that?" Ron exclaimed, and bloody was right. Draco had set a small leather bound book on the arm of his chair, the cover of which appeared to have been stained rusty brown with age old blood.

"It's a gift from my father," Draco glared back against their accusing stares. "It's been handed down the Malfoy line for generations, I got it last year when I was accepted to Hogwarts."

"I got my toad," Neville joked nervously while grimacing at the blood bound book.

"I've glanced through it a couple times but the spells in here aren't ones we could try at Hogwarts, except maybe in Slytherin's rooms."

"So?" Ron urged.

"So, _Weasley_," Draco sneered while flipping through page after page, "Read this!"

Ron scanned the page; his freckles became more stark as his face paled with every word. Finally he finished and handed the book over to Hermione, she finished reading with gaping eyes and closed the book.

Ron's face remained sallow as he explained, "It's about the _muggle_ word 'abracadabra.' The book says that it's a word muggles use when they're pretending to be magic."

Hermione took over with a hush, "Wizards who hated muggles and muggleborns had been teaching muggles to say it, because a muggleborn would eventually overhear and wind up trying it with their wands, just to see if anything would happen. But see, the word started as something else, a real spell, but changed over time until it wound up as 'abracadabra.'"

"But why would they bother with all that?" Gregory frowned, "Teaching muggles a spell and all."

"Because they spell they taught them was," Hermione choked, "It was the killing curse, and sometimes if the muggleborns tried it as a joke, not knowing what it was, they'd wind up killing their parents or friends, then the village they lived in would either banish or kill them too as punishment."

"The killing curse is supposed to come with a bolt of green light," Draco said.

"And if it sounds like 'abracadabra …'" Ron worried, "Is that what they hit Creevey with? Someone tried to kill him?" The group shared silent looks of fear and remained in an uneasy hush.

"Aveda Kadavra," Harry whispered with a gasp, breaking their silence. "That's the real word for the killing curse. Isn't it?"

"How did you know that?" Draco awed.

"I don't know," Harry hushed, teary eyed. "I think I remember."

Draco shook himself out of the group's stunned appal, "There's something else," he said. "The killing curse is listed in a section with a few others, one of them is supposed to be the most painful torture curse, which I think might sound a lot like 'curio' if you don't know what you're hearing."

"Crucio," Neville whispered and snuggled closer to Gregory with tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Can it really be that two incredibly dark -"

"Unforgivably dark," Draco interrupted.

"- curses," Hermione continued, "Were cast on Colin? That someone tried to kill him?"

"I think so," Draco nodded. "The curses take a lot of power though, if this Dark Lord's agent is just a teenager, they might not be able to do it properly yet."

"So all Colin got was an electric shock and a nosebleed," Harry shivered. "Oh no!" he groaned, "What if he's got a lightning bolt scar too now? He'll think we're meant to be together or something!"

The group eased out of their morbid worries and grinned.

oo00O00oo

"Ready?" Ron whispered the next evening.

Harry nodded and the two hurried out of the common room, slipping under the invisibility cloak once clear of the Fat Lady. They hurried through the hallways, which, due to the duelling club meeting taking place was clear of students and patrolling Prefects. Soon the door to Myrtle's bathroom had opened and closed, then locked and spelled shut.

The ride down the sink tunnel was made in silence, and the boys hurried to light their wands and allay some of their fears once at the bottom. They opened the purple-eyed man's package and set out their equipment. They would be leaving most of it behind with the carcass so as to not have to transport the bulky uniforms back and forth each time they made their way down.

The instructions were clear though the procedure was painfully complicated; the spells were complex, and the whole process was hampered all the more by the stifling hot head gear and coveralls, the restrictive diamond lined gloves adorning their hands, and the protective sheaths covering their wands. By the end of an hour they had finally become comfortable manoeuvring within their uniforms and felt ready to tackle the basilisk.

"Want to give it a try? Or wait till the next time?" Harry worried his lip, "We only have a bit of time before the duelling club lets out."

"Let's try it."

They began at the tail, and portioned off a section of the snake no longer than Ron's hand, with Harry using their first spell to keep the rest of the snake's blood from spilling out. Once done they began to work in tandem, both casting separate parts of the spells needed: Harry busied himself containing and levitating the basilisk's blood while Ron broke into a sweat charming the blood from the section in question, out of the snake and into Harry's containment. When the last drops were hovering in the air, Ron scooped the grapefruit sized globule into a glittering funnel that had been sent in their package, and positioned the first of the narrow beakers beneath. Harry released the containment spell and trembled while directing the levitating blood through the funnel, stopping it in place twice so Ron could change beakers without spilling.

"Bloody hell!" Ron gasped. "That was pretty close to being dark magic I reckon!"

Harry wholeheartedly agreed.


	12. The Polyjuice Potion

**Chapter 12 - The Polyjuice Potion**

While Harry and Ron were giddy with excitement over their underground basilisk enterprise, the rest of the school was buzzing over the duelling club meeting of the previous evening which, all things considered, went about as well as one could have expected.

"We did learn a few things though," Hermione frowned at Ron and Harry over breakfast at the Slytherin table, tut-tutting with disapproval, "You two really should have come."

"What for?" Ron snorted, "It was a flying carpet wreck, Hermione! Besides, why should we waste hours with that old fraud just to learn something that you could teach us in five minutes?"

"I," Hermione blushed. "Well."

"I'll say though, I wish I had been there to see Snape cursing Lockhart," said Ron. "I hear he sent him flying a dozen times."

One might expect that after delivering a sound thrashing to Glittering Gilderoy, perhaps Professor Snape would have spent the following day in high spirits, but word soon spread around the castle that he was indeed in an even more vicious state.

"It's Lockhart," Fred moaned over lunch, "He's spending all his class time outlining how Snape's curses were obvious and easy to avoid and how he valiantly allowed himself to be hit in order to properly teach us."

Harry swivelled his head to catch the reply on the other side of him, nestled as he was between the twins at the Gryffindor table.

"We've got Snape next," George groaned even more mournfully than his twin. "He'll have us in detention for a month."

Draco, Vincent, and Gregory shared glances and stood up from their seats.

"We've better get over to the Slytherin side," Vincent frowned, "No point asking for trouble by sitting here."

The three left the table, followed soon after by the twins who had become too busy planning Potions pranks to eat. If they were going to wind up in detention anyway, the two were determined to have earned every last one.

No sooner had the two left Harry's side when one seat filled with a small wriggling form.

"Alright, Harry?" a shrill voice squealed with excitement.

"Hi Colin," Harry sighed behind his forced smile, stopping to glare at his friends who in an effort to finish their lunches with minimal annoyance, were shuffling away, leaving him alone with his rabid fan.

"Um," Colin blushed, "I know you're a hero and everything already, but -"

"I'm not really a hero," Harry interrupted with a roll of the eyes, "I've just saved my own little bee-hind a couple of times."

"Harry!" Colin squealed and giggled at the thought of Harry's bottom. "Anyhow, I thought you still might want to see what we're learning in Duelling Club. I know the only reason you didn't join is because you don't want to show off." With a bold and satisfied grin, Colin placed a large wizarding photo in Harry's hands.

Harry glanced at the picture, and then openly gaped, then giggled in mischievous delight as he began plotting and planning. Once he had pried Colin's lingering hand from his own, he gave the boy a wink and flashed him his thousand watt, and waited for him to recover. "Colin," he peeped. "How would you like to make a few extra Galleons, and a whole bunch of new friends?"

"Something's off," Ron grumbled, looking around the common room as they were about to head for dinner that evening.

"Are all of us here?" Gregory shrugged, and the group began accounting for each other. "Where's Draco? He's been acting weird -"

"I'm right here," Draco sneered from behind the larger boy.

"Oh I know," Hermione's eyes lit up as was usual when she knew the answer before anyone else. "Where's Colin? He's normally peeking at Harry from the back corner around now."

"I've sent him on assignment," Harry giggled. "He gave me a present at lunch today and I thought I'd kill three basilisks with one rooster." He shook his head in response to their questioning looks and shimmied his shoulders, "You'll see."

oo00O00oo

Saturday morning dawned crisp and clear, the slight draught whistling in through the Gryffindor windows made the group bed all the more inviting to snuggle into, and all the more difficult to venture out of.

As determined by the new security measures, Neville, Gregory, and Vincent had eased into the routine of exiting the bed with Draco in order to escort him to Slytherin Quidditch practices, seeing as the rest of the team made their way to the pitch from the dungeons. They picked Hermione up from the common room along the way allowing them all to use Draco's practice time to study under her strict but capable tutelage.

With their friends safely occupied, Ron and Harry hurried to the Great Hall to pack a breakfast, and then slinked back to Myrtle's bathroom, donning the invisibility cloak once near the entrance. They had yet to hear back from the purple-eyed man, but wanted to have a second set of basilisk vials ready to send off as soon as his owl returned.

Once inside, the boys waited a few moments under the cloak ensuring that the haunted bathroom was still well avoided.

Harry gasped after a moment, "I think someone's in here!" he squealed as quietly as he could manage. Sure enough a wet, gurgling tinkle could be heard coming from one of the stalls. Safely hidden under the cloak, the boys waited, and waited, for the tinkler to finish, wash up, and leave.

"What do you reckon is going on in there?" Ron whispered back in astonishment, as the tinkling and gurgling continued with no hint of stopping.

Harry covered his mouth to smother his giggles, "What should we do?"

The two shrugged at each other from still under the cloak and with grimacing giggles, they kneeled down to the stone floor and began peeking under the stalls.

"There's no one," Ron said, "Unless they're standing on the toilet."

"Ergh!" Harry exclaimed and pointed; a pool of water had begun to spread from the centre stall. "What in heavens?"

With a deep breath, Ron gave the stall door a slight push; it was unlocked and opened easily.

"Myrtle!" they exclaimed and whipped the cloak off. A second later a silvery head popped up from the bowl.

"You're here!" she cried. Her face took on a translucent pout, "Ooh, I thought you'd be dead, I've been looking for you in the U-bends for days. What about the others? Will any of them be sharing my toilet?"

"Er," Ron grimaced, "None of us died. Vincent had a close one though but he's back up and about."

"They must have woken him when they got me up as well," Myrtle nodded from the toilet bowl. "Why didn't you come to see me earlier? They revived me days ago!"

"We visited you often when you were, well, you know," Harry lied quickly, "And then one day you were gone, we thought you must have crossed over. Nobody told us you were un-Petrified or we would have come straight here. Um … Draco especially will be happy you're alright."

"Draco?" Myrtle frowned, "The snotty blond one? What about the little round one, Neville? I liked him."

Ron snorted, "Little Neville's got himself a boyfriend now."

Myrtle pouted further, "Happens every time."

The second round of basilisk work went well and by the time the boys had to make their way out of the underground lair and into the dungeons, they had filled what remained of their vials and would have to wait until replacements were sent before venturing back for more.

The boys met up with the others at lunch and soon traded groups, sending Harry and Vincent off to visit Hagrid, Gregory and Neville off to smile and wave at each other, and Draco and Hermione off to drag Ron to the library.

It was late afternoon when they reconvened; the cupcake laden duo found the library group waiting for them where the path from the Front Hall and the library intersected. A small group had collected there, and as Harry approached, he saw the distinct glimmer of gold being exchanged.

It seemed that since the most recent attacks on Ginny on Colin, the students had become none too shy about participating in a rather haphazard underground protection trade, consisting mainly of supposed Defence artefacts and Dark Arts detectors, though it was rumoured that the Slytherin Beaters, both first string and reserve, were making a small fortune selling their services as personal guards to the more gullible students.

Ron, Hermione, and Draco stood nearby, glaring daggers at the fifth year Ravenclaws who had set up shop in the corner and were trying to convince them of their need for advanced security.

"It's obvious that you lot especially, need additional protection!" one shouted.

Ron looked just about to put up his fists when Harry and Vincent were spotted and dragged away from the scene.

"Why would you need extra protection?" Vincent frowned.

"We don't!" the three hissed in unison, glaring their way to the Gryffindor commons.

"What's the ruckus?" Ron frowned as they climbed through the portrait hole. Hordes of boisterous students were huddled around … "Is that Creevey? Don't tell me people are buying defence artefacts from a first year!"

"Nope," Harry giggled and pranced up to the second year boys' dorms. Sure enough a small stack of Colin's recent endeavours were waiting for him on the bed. He scooped them up and hurried back to his friends.

"He's selling these," he shimmied his shoulders and handed each of his friends one of the sought after items. "But I've got ours free already."

With gaping mouths, gasps, and snorts, the group poured through copies of Colin's duelling club photos, capturing in true wizarding fashion, some of the more gruesome duels between Lockhart and Snape.

They bowed, Lockhart bending deeply with a flourish of arms and robes, Snape merely jerking his head. They readied, and while Lockhart twirled his wand in an intricate manoeuvre, Snape sent a thick bolt of red light and a sneer toward the glittering man, sending him high into the air - half out of the photo in fact - upside down, and crashing to the duelling platform in a mess of hair, sparkling teeth, and peacock blue satin.

On Harry's suggestion, Colin had prepared a few different photos in varying sizes, the largest of which were proving to be the most popular. While the defence trade was indeed booming, it was about to take a direct hit in the competition for the students Galleons.

"We should send this to Witch Weekly," Ron jumped up and down.

"He's going to kill you, Harry!" Hermione gasped, unsure whether to laugh out loud or chastise the boy.

"But _I_ haven't done anything," Harry peeped with a toss of his hair, "Besides, he should be glad, now we're all going to be carrying pictures of him. That's what he wants, isn't it?"

"Cupcake's right, Hermione," Ron snorted, "All the girls are going to think he looks right adorable sprawled out on the floor."

"Besides," Harry rolled his eyes toward the crowd and hushed, "I'm hoping this will make Colin popular enough that he won't have so much time for me anymore."

Indeed, Colin Creevey's inclination toward stalking Harry did not lend itself to widespread popularity, in fact, most of the students that were aware of him at all, knew him simply as 'that kid in love with Potter.' So it was with great shock that he had found himself crowned, if temporarily, Gryffindor's shining knight.

oo00O00oo

"After your practice tonight?" Ron conspired with Harry over French toast and powdered sugar Wednesday morning, using his stuffed mouth to help hide their conversation.

"Can't," Harry whispered back. "I'm tutoring Nevi and the boys in Transfiguration and Potions tonight. We don't have any more vials anyway."

"A huge package of something came this morning," Ron finally swallowed.

"We've got Snape today," Neville interrupted with a tremble. "Do you think he's still …?"

"Psychotic?" Ron finished. Neville nodded.

They hurried to the dungeons where their Slytherin friends were waiting for them outside the Potions classroom.

"Give us a head's up, will you, Cupcake?" Ron nudged the small boy toward the nearest portrait. The group huddled around Harry, blocking him from view as the rest of the class began arriving.

Harry gave his hips a serpentine wiggle, "Sss sss," and finally, "How's Professor Snape today?" he hissed.

The snakes in the portrait gave their heads a mournful shake, "You'd be better off knocking yourself over the head and spending the morning in the infirmary," one hissed back.

Harry thanked the snakes and grimaced at his friends. "Fear not," he shimmied his shoulders with a mischievous glint, "I've got a plan. But if I don't make it, you have to promise to give me the kind of burial any proper girl would love!"

"But you're not a girl, Cupcake," Gregory grinned.

Harry gasped in outrage, "Hush your mouth!" he giggled.

Harry rummaged in his bag and with a deep breath and shoulders back, entered the classroom. While his friends watched with morbid curiosity and took their seats, Harry instead hovered at the front in wait for the imposing man.

"Professor Snape," he peeped just as the overgrown bat swooped in, slamming the door behind him. "Could I ask a favour?"

"I have more important things to do than bow to the whims of arrogant incompetent brats," the Professor snarled.

"Oh, okay," Harry shrugged, "But before you do those things, could you sign this for me?"

"If you think I'm going to sign a form for the restricted section or some other -"

Harry thrust one of the moving photos under his bulbous nose before he could finish.

The Gryffindors and Slytherins alike all held their collective breath and waited, some sure that they were about to witness the untimely death of the Boy Who Lived.

"I believe I will have to confiscate this, Potter," the Professor sneered after a moment.

"I suppose you _could_, but you really don't _have_ to," Harry took a deep breath and went for broke. He shuffled through his book bag again and pulled out a long, rolled tube. "If you want one of your own, you can have this one. It's poster sized, they're being sold for a Galleon. That little one is the 10 Sickle size, it fits perfectly over the cover of our Defence Against the Dark Arts textbooks, our Potions book too actually."

Professor Snape spent long moments boring into Harry with an intense glare before seeming to smirk, resulting in a rather disturbing barring of yellowed teeth. He paused and finally added his scrawling autograph to the textbook sized image.

"Thank you, sir!" Harry batted his eyelashes with much relief, and scrambled to his seat.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter," Snape sneered, "For delaying the start of class."

"That was amazing!" Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder as they hurried down the hallway.

"I made the best potion I've ever done!" Neville squealed. "Did you see it? I know it wasn't perfect, but it didn't come close to blowing up, hardly any rumbles at all! And it was blue! Not navy blue but blue enough."

When word spread, it was by tacit agreement that the rest of the Hogwarts students didn't all rush to Snape to ask his autograph as well, opting instead to spread the requests out before classes, hoping to stretch his reduced vitriol out for as long as possible.

It was however, soon discovered, that the only thing better than asking Snape to sign a photo, was asking Lockhart to sign the same one. Though, to be fair, it was days before Lockhart figured out what exactly he was signing, enamoured as he was by the sudden influx of autograph requests.

Snow had dusted the Hogwarts' grounds by Saturday's Quidditch match, featuring Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. As Ron and Harry couldn't possibly miss the match without raising numerous eyebrows all around, they had no choice but to attend and put their bathroom sink trip off yet again.

They passed a group of second and third year Hufflepuffs as they made their way to the pitch, but to Harry's dismay, the customary waves and grins he sent to them were, for the most part, returned with uncharacteristically subdued nods and half smiles.

"What's up with the Puffs?" Harry pouted.

"Er, nervous over the match," Ron answered fast, "Ravenclaw's put a good team together this year. Ignore them."

"There he is," Justin Finch-Fletchley, one of the few Hufflepuffs seemingly unfazed by the upcoming game, hurried away from the others and clapped Harry on the shoulder before he could start up the Gryffindor stands.

"The man of the hour!" Justin said. "Good on you, Potions has never been better." He seized Harry's hand and pumped it as though the small boy had just been elected Minister for Magic. "I don't care what everyone's saying, Harry, I think you're brilliant and I'm not afraid to be heard saying so."

Harry puzzled, "What's everyone saying?"

"Oh you know," Justin waved him off, "Load of rubbish if you ask me."

"We've got to go!" Hermione interrupted in a rather louder voice than was necessary. She dragged Harry away by his arm and called to Justin over her shoulder, "We want to get good seats!"

During breakfast Sunday morning, Harry noticed an odd glimmer of pink caught in the folds of Neville's robes.

"Neville," Harry frowned, "What is that?"

Neville blushed and clutched a shiny pink pouch hanging from his neck from a length of black cord, before glancing across the hall to wave at Gregory, who along with Vincent and Draco, were sitting at the Slytherin table that morning. He leaned in and hushed, "It's a talisman."

"Oh Neville," Hermione sighed, "I hope those Ravenclaws didn't charge you too much, you know those things don't really work. Some of them are even dangerous."

"Well they can't all be rubbish, and I might have got a good one," Neville shrugged, "Besides, it's better safe than sorry, what with being friends with -" and was promptly knocked off his chair by a very conspicuous redhead.

"What in heavens?" Harry gasped.

"Got a twitch or something," Ron mumbled from behind a choking mouthful of bacon.

"Alright," Harry stammered still aghast, and turned back to Neville, "Well it's pretty enough anyway."

The afternoon found Harry and Ron once again safely ensconced in Salazar's room, and it was with much anticipation that they tore open the package from the purple-eyed man. Atop the rack of replacement vials were four rolled parchments, three of which were closed with the Gringotts wax seal, and a velvet pouch which proved to contain the two keys for the three accounts opened at Gringotts on their behalf.

"'Your requests were implemented without incident,'" Harry read aloud. And indeed a quick look at the Gringotts scrolls revealed that of the three accounts, one was under Ron's name, the second was listed under Harry's alias 'Buddy Cole', and the third listed jointly under the names of their five friends. That scroll clearly stated that the vault could be accessed only if all five of the listed account holders were present, at which point they could each decide what to do with their share. With 30 of the profits going directly to the purple-eyed man, the two boys had elected to give their friends a generous, guilt assuaging, future anger quelling 5 each, leaving the two of them to split the 45 remaining. Ron had grumbled quite a bit when Harry insisted on turning over what amounted to a full 25 of their earnings to their friends, but as it was the only way Harry would agree to the enterprise, he conceded. Now that his eyes were bulging over the figures listed in his opening balance, the amount turned over to their friends didn't bother him nearly so much.

"'Though,'" Harry continued, "' I refrained from adding the final clause to Mister Weasley's new account.'"

Ron had wanted a portion of his proceeds to be immediately deposited into his parents account, but with quick words, the letter explained that citizens as ridiculously law abiding as the Weasley heads surely were, would likely as not be rather suspicious of the additional funds and would wind up causing more harm than good with their subsequent investigations.

"'Now that the basilisk has been assessed, and its age and time of death determined, you'll be able to administer the appropriate charms to ensure its long-term preservation. The necessary charms will change over time but I will update you accordingly.'"

Filled with excitement over their Gringotts accounts and balances, Harry and Ron began the procedure for filling up the vials, and didn't stop until the full set was complete. After which they practiced and finally began performing the preservation charms in question, leaving them to scramble through the halls in order to be on time for dinner in the Great Hall.

"Charms essays done?" Hermione questioned as they sat down.

"Yep!"

It was during their next defence lesson that Ron slid a note and sheaf of parchment atop Harry's work, before turning to his own studies as outlined by Hermione's Dark Arts and its Defence plan.

Harry read Ron's note first,

I owled M. Ax about something and he sent this back. Could come in useful for stuff and the summer and such.

Harry pushed his bottom lip out at the redhead who was pointedly looking elsewhere, and began skimming through the stack of paper, eyes widening more and more as he progressed.

"Have you lost your mind?" Harry hissed in near parseltongue on their way out of Defence.

Ron laughed and shushed him before the others could hear.

With a stack of owl order catalogues in hand, Harry and Ron claimed Christmas planning as their excuse to leave their friends behind after the last class of the day and hurried into Myrtle's bathroom.

"Now," Harry crossed his arms over his chest with a glaring pout, "_Have you lost your mind?_"

"Cupcake," Ron whined.

"Don't you 'Cupcake' me!" Harry sassed, and with a flourish, brandished the offending parchments from his bag. "'Polyjuice'," he quoted aghast, "'Is an advanced brew, though being familiar with, and capable of the Mandrake based restorative draught, I feel certain that your brewmaster will find him or herself more than up to the task if you should deem this route most suitable for your situation.'"

"It's a great idea, Cupcake," Ron said, "He says it's a potion that will change our appearance for a full hour!"

"And what do we need to do that for?"

"For going back to Knockturn Alley for one, and …," Ron began to blush, "Well other reasons too, but mainly for Knockturn and to keep you safe in the summer and such."

"There must be an easier way to sneak back to Knockturn Alley, Ron," Harry frowned, "Polyjuice Potion has got to be a dozen different kinds of illegal."

Ron snorted, "Harry, what we've been doing down in Sally's room can't be entirely legal either, not to mention sending it off to a dealer in Knockturn!"

"Oh. Right. Doodles," Harry said with a pout to concede the point.

"It's not like we're going to get caught," Ron reasoned, "Besides, we're only using it to keep you safe, right?"

"I thought we were using it to go to Knockturn Alley," Harry planted his hands on his hips.

"Well there's that too," Ron shrugged and returned to scarlet, "Look, it probably wouldn't hurt to disguise yourself a bit around here sometimes."

"Whatever are you talking about?" Harry said.

"It's not exactly safe in the castle these days, is it?" Ron said, "If someone was after you, well this potion might help."

"But no one _is_ after me," Harry peeped. "It's Hermione that's needs protecting, being Muggleborn and all."

"Yeah, her too," Ron mumbled, "Er, and it might not hurt to keep the cloak with you. All the time. Just in case."

"_Hermione's_ the one that should carry the cloak," Harry whined, "Everyone has been acting like their pants are full of ants. What aren't you telling me?"

"It's nothing, alright? But look, there's some sort of dark lord on the loose in the castle which means this can't be the best place to be the Boy-Who-Lived, so just keep the cloak with you."

"Oh Ron!" Harry gushed and threw his hands to his warm cheeks, "You're really so worried about me?"

"Oh bollocks," Ron blushed again, "You're not going to cry, are you?"

"No!" Harry sniffed.

"So?"

"I'll keep the cloak with me."

"And the Polyjuice?"

"Ron," Harry rolled his watery eyes and sniffed again, "You know as well as I do that Mister Axelrod probably thinks we found some shady sort of backstreet brewmaster to make us the Mandrake restorative. He probably thinks we had Vincent hidden in a closet all the while, not in the hospital wing waiting to be rescued by our Potions Professor! It isn't as though we can find a way for Snape to make this for us."

Ron let out a loud snort, "Of course we won't get Snape! Can't we make it ourselves? You're brilliant at potions and I could help some. Mister Axelrod sent the recipe and I bet if we need more ingredients, he'd send them."

Harry eyes flew to bulging, "I went through that recipe in Defence, Ron, it's the most complicated Potion I've ever seen!"

"I bet you could do it though," Ron urged. With a grin he began paging through their Flourish and Blotts catalogue, "So, what you reckon for Hermione this year?"

Harry rolled his eyes.

oo00O00oo

Draco's early Quidditch practice left Harry and Ron to enter the Great Hall alone the next morning, as the others had gone straight to breakfast from the pitch.

"Harry, old boy!" a shout startled them. Justin Finch-Fletchley waved at the pair from the Hufflepuff table. "Over here!"

Harry and Ron nodded to the Gryffindors and waved over to the Slytherin table before making their way to Justin.

"You've all sat at the Slytherin table dozens of times, you've got friends here in Hufflepuff too."

"Thanks Justin," Harry grinned and settled in beside the boy.

"Budge up Hannah," Justin frowned, "Give Ron a spot."

The girl leap from her seat and complied in a hurry, moving not just one seat over but two.

It was minutes before the second class of the day would end for lunch when a voice boomed through the entire castle.

"Attention! Due to unforeseen events, lunch will be taken in your House common rooms! Professors, please escort your students back to their common rooms immediately following second period! Heads of House will be on hand for further information!"

Harry shared worried looks with his friends and was soon being shepherded through the castle and deposited in Gryffindor Tower. Once there, the group was dismayed to find that their Slytherin friends had not arrived.

"Do you think something's happened to them?" Neville worried.

"They've probably had to go to the Slytherin dorms," Harry answered. That was all he managed before they were launched upon and manhandled by Fred, George, and Percy Weasley.

"There's been another attack," Percy announced as he patted Ron's shoulders and sides, seeming to check the lanky boy over for anything untoward.

"We're fine!" Ron answered in shock before pulling away to cower behind Hermione's small frame.

Professor McGonagall soon swept in and announced that Justin Finch-Fletchley had wandered off unaccompanied and had later been thrown over a banister on the sixth floor. Fortunately, the castle itself had altered the path of the nearest staircase and caught him before he had fallen far. He was bumped and bruised and would spend the night under guard in the infirmary, but was otherwise fine.

"This is a reminder to all of you," she cast her stern glare around the room, "You were instructed to traverse the castle in groups or at the very least, pairs. The buddy system only works, if you stay with your buddy! Anyone found alone outside the common rooms will be punished severely. Please note that classes have been delayed by fifteen minutes, but will not be cancelled," she turned a bit to the left to glare daggers at Percy who had the grace to adjust his glasses and blush politely.

Assured that Justin would be fine, lunch and afternoon classes proceeded rather normally.

Harry and Hermione hung back after Charms to receive additional work for extra credit: make up work for Harry, who lagged somewhat with his practical skills, and bonus material for Hermione, who excelled as per usual.

Harry wrinkled his nose as they made their way to meet the others in the library.

"Am I stinky or something?" he asked, and leaned over to hover in sniffing range of Hermione, who promptly flushed and stammered.

"Of course not," she started, "Look, it's nothing to worry about."

"But?"

"Harry it's really nothing."

"If you're going to keep secrets from your friends," Harry huffed, "You're supposed to be good enough at it that they don't suspect anything. And if they do suspect, you have to come clean. That's the rule, I'm sure of it."

"Oh all right," she sighed, "I think some of the students are avoiding you."

"Honey, I already figured that part out. Honesty, just look at everyone," Harry said, and indeed the normally full halls seemed nearly bare as people edged to the walls to give him a wide berth. They entered the library and found the others sitting at their regular spot, which sat ostracised in the middle of a ring of empty tables, even though the rest of the library was quite crowded. "Now explain why everybody is suddenly running away from Hogwarts' most popular group of second years?"

"They think you're the 'Enemy of the Heir,'" she said.

"Oh, so we're telling him, are we?" Draco smirked as the two settled in. He glanced around the empty tables circling them, "Suppose it's a bit obvious at this point though."

"You all think this?" Harry gasped, his mouth agape, "But that's impossible. Your house-elf said they weren't after me specifically."

"When you get your information from house-elves, you can't expect it to be perfect, can you?" Draco sneered. "And if not you, Cupcake, than who? Didn't whoever attacked Creevey even say to him 'Maybe Potter will save you'?"

"Exactly," Hermione said. "Vincent's your friend, Ginny's your best friend's little sister, and Colin is your 'number one fan,' and now Justin, who has been raving about your little Potions stunt to anyone who will listen for days now."

"You were attacked during that Quidditch match by the very Bludger that exploded with the Enemies of the Heir message," Ron snorted, "If that doesn't point directly to you, I don't know what does."

Harry pouted his lower lip and slumped into his hands, "Why does everyone want to kill me?"

"Well you stopped You-Know-Who," Neville frowned, oblivious to the rhetorical nature of the question. "I think that means anyone who wants to take his place will have to prove his salt by going after you."

"Nice one, Neville," Draco said. "If anyone can manage to kill off Cupcake, they'll have proven themselves stronger than the Dark Lord, er, the You-Know-Who Dark Lord, that is."

"You mean this will keep happening until someone finally kills me?" Harry squeaked. The group slumped in their seats with that rather frightening realisation. "And now everyone's staying away from me because -"

"Because the friend of your enemy is your enemy," Draco said in his usual drawl.

"So you're all Enemies of the Heir too, just because you're friends with me?" Harry's lips trembled, "That's why you've been wearing that talisman, isn't it Neville?"

With a sheepish blush the entire group reached down the fronts of their robes and pulled out rune marked gemstone pendants hanging from thin gold chains. Neville was dually adorned with his corded pink pouch.

"Hermione!" Harry gasped, "You said these were all rubbish!"

"Anything student made and bought here at Hogwarts is," she blushed, "Draco bought us these from the purple-eyed man. He did send us quality Mandrake that time."

"And nobody cheats a Malfoy," Draco smirked.

"But what if they don't work?" Harry blinked back tears after a long moments' silence, "What if -"

"We'll be fine," Hermione said, "As long as we all stick together and stay in groups we won't be in any danger. That's how Justin got caught today, remember? If he hadn't been by himself he'd have been fine."

"Speaking of Justin, I should go later on and make sure he's alright," Harry sighed, "It's the least I can do seeing as he got pushed off the sixth floor just for being nice to me."

It was after dinner that Harry, Ron, and Draco found themselves huddled under the cloak, around the corner from the infirmary, unsure whether they should risk notice entering invisibly, or let it be known that Harry was visiting Justin. They were saved having to decide by the arrival of Justin's friends, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, and Ernie Macmillan. The invisible trio hurried inside behind them.

Justin was drinking a steaming cup of hot chocolate and chatting amiably with the other Hufflepuffs, all of whom were none too shy about ladling the boy with 'I told you so's' regarding his open friendship with the Enemy of the Heir.

"That's just asking for trouble," Ernie said.

The boys were seated along the wall and waited until their legs were cramped when Madam Pomfrey finally ushered the visitors out, claiming Justin needed to rest. They waited again while the Hufflepuffs said their goodbyes, and Madam Pomfrey ran a series of scans.

"Sleep now," said Pomfrey in her gentle but stern voice, "I'll be in my office and shall be alerted immediately if anyone even approaches the infirmary, so you're quite safe Mister Finch-Fletchley."

Justin nodded and settled into his pillows.

The boys pulled off the invisibility cloak once Madam Pomfrey had entered her office.

"Justin!" Harry whispered.

"Harry!" Justin squealed. "How did you get in here?"

"Shh!" Harry shushed him, "We came in with your friends and were hiding until just now. Nobody should know we're here."

"So it's true then?" Justin flailed his arms about, "I asked the Headmaster when he was here, but he wouldn't answer, just twinkled at me, you know? But it's true though, right? You're really the Enemy of the Heir?"

"Looks that way," Harry nodded while Ron snorted in the background. "I just wanted to come and make sure you were alright."

"How'd it happen anyway," Ron asked.

Justin groaned, "I forgot my quill and ran back to Binns' room to get it. I sent Ernie and Hannah ahead so they wouldn't be late for Potions. If it was any other class I would have let them come with me, but … well, Professor Snape," he said as if that explained everything, which, really, it did.

"Then what happened?" Ron urged.

"I came back out of Binns' room and there he was. I thought he was a Prefect or something, maybe Slytherin what with the sneer he had on, so I told him what happened and asked if he could walk me to Potions. He said no and then flicked his wand at me and I went right over the banister and hit the fifth floor staircase, broke my arm and everything!"

"Black hair, green eyes?" Draco said.

"Got it in one," Justin cheered.

"Did you see where he went?"

"That's the thing, idn'it?" Justin hushed, "I fell backwards over the rail, so I could see him as I was falling, and I hadn't even hit the stairs before he disappeared. Like that," he snapped his fingers.

The door to Madam Pomfrey's office opened and the three ducked down behind the side of the bed as she hurried into the room with her wand drawn and poised. The boys perched silently under the cloak while Justin feigned sleep.

The reason for her return was soon evident; the door to the infirmary opened, and Madam Pomfrey let out a relieved breath and lowered her wand as Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall entered the room.

The two were already speaking in low tones as they peeked in at Justin and then eased toward Madam Pomfrey's office.

"But this can't be, Albus," McGonagall was asking urgently. "You must," she squeaked, "You must be mistaken."

"I have been known to make mistakes, Minerva," Dumbledore said with grave severity, "But this is not one of those times. Tom Riddle has indeed returned to Hogwarts."

"But how?"

"That, I do not know," he answered, "But whatever process brings him here has either been unsuccessful or is incomplete. I have no doubt Riddle could have performed the Unforgivable curses as a first year, but instead he is resorting to first year spells. His magic is still broken."

He tilted his head toward Justin's bed and seemed to look directly at the hidden boys. Harry, Ron, and Draco held a breath.

"There are certain students Riddle will be most interested in," he said, "We will have to keep a closer eye on them. Though I suppose we can take comfort in the fact that they seem never to travel alone."

The office door shut and the boys hurried out of the infirmary. They whipped off the cloak soon after and pounded down the halls, not stopping until they were at the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Riddle?" Neville frowned, nestled snugly in their alcove. "Why do I know that name?"

"Award for Special Services to the school," Hermione replied without looking up from the thick tome before her.

"Nah," Ron shook his head, "Can't be the same guy. Poor old McGonagall seemed half terrified at the thought of him. What kind of student terrifies their professors and still wins school awards?"

The group quieted and Harry looked up to find his friends blushing and looking his way.

"Hey!" he peeped.

"You did sort of kill our last Defence teacher," Draco smirked.

"And Lockhart is three days away from nervous collapse," Hermione added with a chastising grin, eyes still zigzagging down the page.

Harry glared at the lot of them, "_Anyway,_" he drew out the word. "McGonagall wouldn't even have met Special Services to the School Riddle, Dumbledore was still the Transfiguration professor back then, remember?" he squinted his eyes shut and stuck out his tongue at Ron and the others.

"Actually," Hermione cleared her throat and finally put the tome aside, "She would have been a student at the same time as Hagrid and Riddle, so she might have known him personally."

"And that was fifty years ago, right?" Vincent said. "Special Services Riddle would be as old as McGonagall now, the Tom Riddle the Headmaster named could be his son or grandson even. He may have even just graduated Hogwarts in the last few years."

"I don't know," Ron shrugged, "That stuff Dumbledore said about his magic being broken and _processes_ bringing him here, made it seem trickier than just some recent graduate sneaking in."

Draco gave a quick nod, "What could happen to someone that they would need to undergo a 'process' to come back here? And how would a teenager get into the kind of trouble that could break his magic?"

"It could be Special Services Riddle with a de-aging potion or something like that," Neville said, "That's a process."

"Still though," Ron frowned, "What about the magic? And what's the point in coming here and attacking students anyway?"

"Well he's not just attacking students is he?" Harry jutted out his lower lip, "He's attacking 'Enemies of the Heir,' me and my friends!"

"And since my father is involved ..."

"Then he's probably a Death Eater," Vincent finished with a whisper.

".. Yeah, that fits," Ron groaned and nodded. "Dumbledore knew we were there just now, didn't he? He looked straight at Harry and practically warned us to be on guard, why else would he do that?"

"Why wouldn't he just tell us properly?" Neville frowned.

Draco snorted and blushed crimson at the dumbfounded stares such a sound caused in the faces around him. "Ahem," he cleared his throat, "He couldn't tell us and not expect us to tell our parents who are sure to tell someone who will eventually tell the newspaper which would either cause a panic or be taken as the paranoid delusions of a touched old man. He's got to be sly about it. You know, I think the old goat's got a bit of Slytherin in him."

The boys turned to Hermione and were surprised to find her pale faced and worried rather than indignant.

"What are you so quiet about, Miss Thing?" Harry sassed.

Hermione swallowed, "How many people do you figure can speak to snakes?" she croaked.

The rest of the group looked at each other and shrugged.

"Because," she continued, "Unless people are really keeping it under wraps, aside from Harry, the only known Parselmouths in the United Kingdom have been descendents of Salazar Slytherin."

"Like the Dark Lord," Draco nodded. "Oh blast!"

"Exactly," Hermione said.

"Oh blast what?!" Ron exclaimed.

"Oh blast, this has more to do with Yoo Hoo than we thought," Harry pouted. "Whoever opened the sink tunnel had to have spoken parseltongue."

"And if that sink room was really Salazar Slytherin's," Gregory mumbled to himself, "And everyone knows that the Dark Lord was one of Slytherin's heirs, and the message in the Bludger said 'Enemies of the Heir' then ..." he broke off and alit into a hot blush as he noticed everyone staring at him agape.

"Exactly," Hermione caught her bearings.

"Alright," Ron twisted his lips, "But that still doesn't tell us who exactly this Tom Riddle is. Did You-Know-Who have a son? Does he have relatives?"

"Or is it the Dark Lord himself?" Draco mused.

"I say it's You-Know-Who," Neville sniffled, "If he had a son or some other relative, where was he last year when You-Know-Who was trying to get the Sorcerer's Stone? Wouldn't he have helped him?"

"Maybe he hadn't graduated school yet?" Vincent said, then snorted in disgust at his own suggestion. "I don't know about the Dark Lord having a kid or any cousins and stuff." His eyes turned to Draco.

"I've never heard anything like that," Draco shook his head, "And if there were other heirs of Slytherin around, I think people would know. The Ministry would have looked up anyone even remotely related to the Dark Lord."

"So we're working with the assumption that this teenager, Tom Riddle, is You-Know-Who. Somehow." Hermione shuddered.

Ron shuddered as well, "Seems about right though. We know that _this_ Tom Riddle can speak to snakes, and we know that _someone_ could speak to snakes back when Myrtle was killed by that basilisk."

"And we know that when Myrtle was killed there just happened to be someone named Tom Riddle here as well," Harry sighed.

"Besides," Draco added, "We know the Dark Lord's magic broke when Cupcake snuffed him. What other broken magicked parseltongues could be out there who happen to have it out for Harry?"

Harry shivered, "You know, this means that Yoo Hoo was an actual _person _once. I've always thought of him as just a monster."

"Me too," Neville peeped, "Well, at least we know why Professor McGonagall was so afraid."

"So what do we do?" Gregory asked.

"I guess we can talk to Myrtle," Ron groaned.

"Actually," Harry said with a hush, "I think it's about time we have a talk with Hagrid."


	13. The Very Secret Diary

**Chapter 13 - The Very Secret Diary**

"Where's Ron?" Neville squeezed Gregory's hand to breaking during breakfast. "He woke up with us, didn't he?"

"Calm down, Neville," Hermione said, "He's in the infirmary with Percy, it's their turn to sit with Ginny."

"And Harry and the others will be here soon, right?" he trembled.

"As soon as they're finished sending the note to Hagrid. Neville, everyone's fine."

Gregory gave the panicked boy's shoulder a nudge and tilted his chin toward the Great Hall's entryway. Harry, Draco, and Vincent were hurrying through. Unfortunately for Gregory's efforts, all three were looking pale and wide-eyed.

Neville burst into tears.

The trio hotfooted to the Gryffindor table but stopped shy of their friends, whispering instead to the Weasley twins, who in turn leapt to their feet and out of the Great Hall at a run.

"We stopped in the infirmary on our way back from the owlery and Mr and Mrs Weasley were both there looking a fright," Harry shivered after he had sat down. "They asked us to find the twins."

"Is she?" Gregory started, "Er, I mean, Ron's parents always visit in the evening, don't they?"

"Which means something big must have happened," Draco nodded. "I don't think Weasley will be in class today."

"At least he's missing Potions."

Ron appeared for his afternoon classes, garnering worried frowns from his friends.

He kept his head down and waved off their questions, "Nothing happened," he mumbled, "They've decided to move her to St. Mungo's, some specialist has been found or something."

"Well that's a good thing, isn't it?" Hermione puzzled, "Maybe they'll be able to help."

"Yeah," Ron said in a whisper, "I guess so, it's just ..."

"It's scarier now that she's away," Neville said.

"Yeah," Ron spoke to his knees.

At Ron's insistence, he and Harry spent the evening at Sally's, as Harry had taken to calling it, filling the latest set of vials and performing the most recent preservation charms on the basilisk. Ron spent the time in a funk, speaking only the charms needed for their work.

"Myrtle isn't in her toilet so often," Harry nibbled his bottom lip, waiting for Ron to break his silence of the evening.

"Well we haven't told her that we killed the basilisk, have we?" he muttered back finally with a snort. "It's killed her twice already."

Harry couldn't help the wave of relieved giggles that burst through.

oo00O00oo

Harry's reply from Hagrid arrived amid pancakes, powdered sugar, syrup, and cream the next morning.

"He says that under no circumstances are we to go out there on our own, he'll meet us at the entrance Sunday at noon so we can have lunch together."

They grumbled but couldn't help the warm feelings that came from knowing at least one adult in the castle had their safety in mind.

"You know Weasley," Draco started as he and the other Slytherins stood to leave, the rest of the group tensed in wait at the smirk in his voice, "If table manners came with Galleons, you'd be … well, there it is then."

Hermione rose and smacked the back of the blond's head into a tuft of tangles, but couldn't help but giggle at Ron's stuffed mouth, syrupy chin, and powdered sugar cheek.

"I don haf ba manu -"

"Ron!" Hermione squealed as flecks of pancakes began to escape. In a huff she gathered her books and grabbed the back of Harry's robes, fleeing the pancake storm to brave the wintry gusts between the castle and greenhouses.

"You don't think I have bad manners, do you Cupcake?" Ron frowned once he and Neville had caught up outside.

"Well, I generally prefer my companions to swallow, not spit," Harry gasped and threw his hands to his now flushing face dropping his books in the process, "Oh my goodness!" he squealed, "Did I just say what I think I said? Because I only meant at the table, I won't mean the other thing for at least four more years!"

Once inside, they were instructed to form groups of three and Harry glanced over to the Hufflepuffs to see if Justin wanted to form a trio. He was shocked to be met with glares from nearly the entire group of Hufflepuff students, Justin excluded. Ernie and a boy Harry didn't know snatched Justin's arms up at once.

"Bunch of duffers if you ask me," Ron muttered.

Harry squeezed in next to Justin at the soil station while the class collected supplies.

"Whatever was that about?" Harry pouted under his breath.

"Don't hold it against them, Harry," Justin whispered back with a furtive look over his shoulder, "They're just wanting to protect me is all, and this is the best way they came up with. Figure I'd best just go along with it before they go overboard. I think they feel guilty for not stopping me going off alone that day. S'awful sweet of them really."

"Right," Harry frowned. "So we can't be friends anymore?"

"It's not that I don't want to," Justin said, "It's just, maybe better if we keep it sort of secret, owl friends or something until this blows over. Ernie and the others will calm down after a bit and they see I'm safe and all."

Harry nodded and headed back to his friends, worrying all the while about the amount of danger his close-knit group was in.

Hermione leaned in close from her soil sprinkled bench seat, "I know what you're thinking Harry but don't worry, we're all wearing our amulets, we'll be fine. Now unfurrow your brow," she grinned, "You'll get wrinkles."

oo00O00oo

Between the excited wait for the Sunday visit with Hagrid and nervous worry over the same occasion, the week evened out to a steady pace, seeming neither to drag or speed through.

"Do we have to?" Ron said in an unbecoming whine mid-morning Saturday.

"The Gryffindor common-room is too crowded," Draco sneered, "And Pansy has a book to return to me."

"They do practically live up here," Neville grinned, "It couldn't hurt to spend the morning in Slytherin."

"They need regular exposure to their natural environment, Ron" Harry controlled his giggles and spoke with all facets of seriousness, "It's terribly dangerous for young Slytherins to spend so much time in good spirits and well lit areas."

The temperature in the castle had decreased day by day and already the fires in the dungeons remained continually lit, not to fade to ash again until spring so as to combat the chill. In fact, the other Slytherins had taken to frowning at the honorary Gryffindors, an unwitting show of jealousy over their toastier sleeping arrangements.

"Bother, it's cold down here!" Ron exclaimed. "Just because Snape is a bloody vampire it doesn't mean we should all have to suffer. And why is it so draughty? It's not as though there's even a single window down here."

"We're in the dungeons, Ron," Hermione sniffed.

"Exactly!" Ron agreed to her confusion.

Though Pansy insisted on not speaking directly to any of the Gryffindors, she did deem them worthy of a full half hour of her pointed frowns and circuitously delivered insults.

"And why is everyone so mean?" Ron frowned, "We've been here before and no one acted like we were contagious."

"It could have something to do with your complaining so much about the chill," Hermione rolled her eyes, "You do know they live down here, don't you?"

"And the last time we were here, I wasn't a pariah," Harry pouted, "A pox on both your houses!"

"A plague, Harry," Hermione corrected, "And that really doesn't apply here."

The two engaged in a brief dispute over how and why one could cast the infamous pox or plague, but were interrupted by Ron's enthusiastic escape plan. The Gryffindors agreed to leaving the Slytherins behind for the afternoon and spending their time in less frosty corners, namely the centre stall in Myrtle's bathroom, so as to prepare for their visit with Hagrid the following day. After much planning for the conversation to come, the group rose from the stiff Slytherin common room chairs to take their leave.

Gregory pulled Ron aside before they exited the dim quarters, leaving Harry to shrug and shake his head at Hermione's questioning glance.

Ron returned a moment later, blushing profusely and eyes bulging, "Let's go," he urged.

"What was that all about?" Neville asked, out of breath as they jogged along the stone floors to keep up with Ron's gangling legs and storming pace.

Ron huffed, "Your boyfriend made me promise to keep Myrtle's hands off of you!"

"Myrtle doesn't have real hands," Harry giggled.

"Well I tried telling that to Gregory, didn't I?" Ron groaned, "But no, he doesn't like the way she eyes Neville! When did my life come to this?"

After a promise from Myrtle that she wouldn't drench the floors, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and a still glowing Neville settled on the stone floor outside of her toilet.

"Do you remember Hagrid?" Ron jumped into the interrogation with no preamble. "Rubeus Hagrid?"

Myrtle shrugged and leaned out of her toilet bowl perch to bat her eyelashes at Neville.

"Do something!" Hermione mouthed through Myrtle's transparent form.

Neville cleared his throat, "He was in third year at Hogwarts when you were, er, you know. He might have been really big."

"Oh!" Myrtle cooed, "I remember. Got on the wrong side of an engorgement curse, that one. Oh he was awful, always covered in muck and getting caught in the forest."

"Did you know that they blamed him for what happened to you?" Harry glared.

Myrtle perked up, "Really?"

"They said it was one of his pets, but it wasn't."

"How do you know?"

"Because the thing that killed you was a snake, an enormous murderous snake called a basilisk," Hermione said with a Draco worthy sneer. "It has huge yellow eyes and kills with its stare."

Myrtle gasped, "I remember yellow eyes! I saw them again this Halloween."

"Well that proves that it was a basilisk that killed you then, doesn't it!" Harry gave his shoulders a triumphant shimmy.

"And," Hermione continued, "The boy you heard in the bathroom that day was talking to it."

"Talking to a snake?" Myrtle frowned, "But how?"

Ron sent Harry an apologetic shrug, "He was a parselmouth, that means a very dark wizard who speaks the snake language, just like Salazar Slytherin was way back when. The person talking to the snake would have been a descendent in the Slytherin line."

"Hagrid is no dark wizard," Harry blushed, "And he's certainly not related to Slytherin, so it couldn't possibly have been him who set the basilisk on you."

"Do you remember someone named Tom Riddle?" Neville pressed.

"Of course I do," she flushed through her pallor, "He was dreamy."

The group groaned and rolled eyes at each other as she floated upward with faraway eyes.

"If we told you that he could talk to snakes, would you believe us?" Ron frowned.

"Yep!" she answered immediately, "Dreamy, but, well … you know?"

Harry pinched Neville's arm, it was time for him to get to the dirty work.

"Don't you remember anything about the boy who was in the bathroom that day, Myrtle?" Neville's voice wavered but soon strengthened. "You did see him, right? Black hair, green eyes? Kind of like Harry here, but older? Sort of like what Tom Riddle looked like, right?"

Myrtle squinted behind her glasses, "I don't know, I remember the yellow eyes, I guess that was the basilisk, and the voice. The voice was making strange sounds. Hissing I guess it was."

"But you must have seen something more?" Neville asked.

"What about in the mirror?" Hermione added, "Maybe in your peripheral vision?"

"You may not even have noticed at the time because of dying and such," Ron said, "But if you think on it now, I bet you'll remember."

Harry nudged Neville once more.

"You did see him," Neville whispered, "Didn't you? You don't have to be afraid Myrtle, he can't hurt you again, and the basilisk is dead now too so it can't hurt you either."

"It's dead?" Myrtle gasped.

"We killed it ourselves, Myrtle," Harry nodded, "Right after it attacked you and Vincent. It was big and nasty and on the rampage for fresh young boys, but there was no way we were going to let that awful old thing get away with hurting our friends, so we went after it anyway, and we got him."

"You killed it … for me?" Myrtle awed.

"That's right," Harry pushed his bottom lip out into a full pout, "And we want to make sure Tom Riddle gets his just desserts."

"It was Tom Riddle, wasn't it, Myrtle?" Neville asked, nodding his head and widening his eyes just like Harry had instructed.

The ghost squinted her eyes shut and hovered over the bowl. The students held their breath.

"You know, you're right," she said finally, "If I think about it, I can see the big black snake - "

"Green," Ron muttered.

"That's right, a great _green_ snake and just beside him is Tom Riddle. I don't know how anyone could think it was Rubeus, I'd have spotted him at once, I'd probably not have died I bet, I'd have been looking at him instead of the snake. He was quite a large boy you know."

"Perfect!" Ron said, "Just so you know, you're going to have to say the same thing to Dumbledore and the Board of Governors probably too at some point, so Hagrid will get cleared. And when you do, you have to be sure not to mention that it was us who killed the basilisk, right?"

Hermione gave the impudent boy a glare and a good hard smack to the shoulder, "Are you alright Myrtle? Finding out who was responsible for your death must be very traumatic."

"Oh it is!" Myrtle squealed her agreement, "But Tom Riddle really was the smartest boy at Hogwarts, and one of the dreamiest too. A girl could get killed by much worse."

The group thanked her and made their exit and stood for a moment outside the door, stunned by the ghost's rationale.

"You know," Ron said once they started moving again, hurrying toward Gryffindor tower. "It could be she was like that before she died, or maybe the basilisk's stare scrambled her brains, or maybe fifty years as a ghost isn't good for you, but I reckon Myrtle's not flushing with a full tank if you know what I mean."

oo00O00oo

The grounds were well blanketed with snow when Professor Dumbledore announced the next morning that due to the ongoing disturbances occurring at Hogwarts, those who wished to stay for the holiday would be required to submit a permission form signed by their parent or guardian.

Ron gasped.

"What are you going to do?" he exclaimed under his breath.

"I'll send the form to Uncle Vernon," Harry whispered back. "It'll be fine, there's no way they want me to return, _especially_ not for Christmas. Actually once he reads that it may be dangerous to stay, he'll be all for it."

Indeed, Harry was one of the first to pick up a form later in the common room. To his surprise, Ron and Hermione picked up forms of their own immediately after.

"Is everything okay, Hermione?" Harry worried, "Why aren't you spending the holidays with your mommy and daddy?"

Hermione huffed, "Oh honestly, Harry! You don't think we're going to leave you here by yourself with You-Know-Who after you again, do you? You might need us."

"But won't mum Weasley need you at home, Ron?" Harry asked.

"More the opposite, really," Ron shrugged, "With Ginny at St. Mungo's now and them having to go back and forth, it'll just be too much work having the rest of us in the house as well."

"But if Dumbledore says it could be dangerous and Ginny's already been hurt, your parents will never let you stay."

"They'll trust Dumbledore can keep us safe I reckon," Ron scoffed with a shrug.

"But -"

"Ready for Hagrid's, Harry?" Hermione interrupted before Ron could sour at the mention of Ginny's predicament.

Harry shut his mouth with a snap and he closed his cloak around him with an apologetic nod at the bushy haired girl.

Hagrid and Fang were still dusted with snow when the group arrived at the Entrance Hall.

"Right on time," Hagrid beamed, though Harry couldn't tell whose punctuality the great man was acknowledging.

They trudged the way across the gleaming white expanse of Hogwarts and were rosy cheeked and panting with chill when they finally arrived at Hagrid's hut.

Coats off and shoes dried, the group edged toward the mammoth table and saw that it was already laden with a sumptuous lunch.

"House-elves 'ave been already," Hagrid said.

"I bet you picked everything yourself!" Harry exclaimed.

"Oh," Hagrid blushed, "Jus' a few things I though' yeh all'd like."

As usual, Harry had to climb the lower rung in order to reach the seat of the towering chairs, raised in order to allow Hagrid's smaller companions to sit comfortably at the otherwise impossible table. He was hardly finished with his curried mince pie when the pre-planned casual banter came to a close.

"Hagrid," Harry took his cue. "We need to talk."

Hagrid frowned, "Well that doesn't soun' good."

"No," Harry squealed and batted his lashes, "It isn't anything _bad_, it's just, well, we have a surprise for you, but musn't be angry."

"Angry?" Hagrid frowned, "Oh dear, little dainty, yeh've not bin gettin' inta trouble, 'ave yeh?"

Harry and Hermione shared a glance, "Not exactly," Hermione said. "We figured out who framed you for Myrtle's death."

Hagrid narrowed his eyes, his long whiskery brows tangled together.

"It was the Dark Lord!" Draco burst out.

"Draco!" the rest of the group groaned.

"Well it was," he frowned, "Except his name was Tom Riddle back then. Do you remember him Hagrid?"

Hagrid sighed, "O'course 'eh do," he said, "He's the one who pointed the finger at me in the firs' place. Made a show of catchin' me and everythin'."

"So you knew already?" Neville pouted.

"Foun' out some years back who Riddle became," Hagrid nodded, "Put two and two together pretty easy affer that."

"But then why isn't your name cleared?" Vincent frowned.

"No proof is there?" Hagrid said. "'E was a Prefect then and wen' on ta become Head Boy. There isn't many who know what became of 'im after Hogwarts."

"Well we have proof now!" Harry squealed. "Myrtle told us it was a giant snake with horrible yellow eyes that killed her, and that Tom Riddle was in the bathroom when it happened and that he was talking to it and everything. No one can argue with that."

"Myrtle told you?" Hagrid awed.

"She sure did," Ron grinned, "If they had just asked her in the first place you'd have been cleared right away."

The group tensed at Ron's pronouncement and Hermione gave her throat a nervous squawk, "Nobody did ask her back then, or since, have they?"

"No," Hagrid affirmed, "Not even Dumbledore so far as I know."

A seven part exhale took place and conversation resumed.

"What should we do next, Hagrid?" Vincent asked.

"I suppose I'll haf to 'ave a chat wif Dumbledore, won't I?" Hagrid grinned through tearing eyes that were soon spilling over in globulous drops. Harry had come prepared with a spare pillowcase for just that purpose, which of course, sent Hagrid into even deeper, but joyful, wails.

"I don' know when las'," he mumbled incoherently, moving around the table to hug each student to eye popping, "Off worryin' bout ol'Agrid."

"You'll return to your studies of course, won't you Hagrid?" Hermione fretted behind her own tears once Hagrid had calmed.

"Oh I don' know abou'that," Hagrid said.

"Oh but you have to!" Harry clapped his hands to his cheeks with a squeal, "You stopped in third year and it's been fifty more since then and you'll have a new wand and everything."

"If you have a wand and live at a school ..." Draco trailed off.

"Well I suppose yer right, aren' yeh?" Hagrid grinned. "Might haf'ta sit in on a class er two. But wer getting' ahead of ourselves a mite. Still have to go to Dumbledore and the Board yet."

"There's something else as well. We know that he's back again, Hagrid," Harry didn't like to have to break his dear friend's mood, but it had to be done. "We know that he's been the one attacking the students."

"Little dainty," Hagrid groaned, "Is best yeh know, but yeh've all got to keep yer noses out where they don' belong. Is a dangerous business, this."

"It probably doesn't matter if we poke around a bit at this point," Hermione said. "He's here, we're here. We can't hide from him."

"We always keep our wands on hand," Harry added, "And we never travel alone."

"We don't understand how he's young again," Ron asked. "It took him a decade to find himself a head to attach to, but in a couple of months he's managed to find a whole new body? And a teenaged one at that?"

Hagrid shook his head, "We 'aven't figured that one out either, but Dumbledore's looking into it."

oo00O00oo

Harry was skipping for days after their luncheon, and did so easily, as much of the school was still giving him a wide berth in the hallways. His mirth came to an end however, just before the winter holidays began, when a large regal owl stopped with a haughty sniff at Draco and dropped a thick embroidered envelope before him during breakfast.

"Your father?" Vincent choked on his French toast and sausage.

Draco nodded.

"You're not going to read it?" Ron wrinkled his forehead.

Draco shook his head and slipped the letter in his school bag to open later.

"Are you kidding?" Gregory shrugged, "An envelope that thick is never any good."

The group huddled in the furthest corner of the Gryffindor common room after dinner; their morose expressions in stark contrast to the excited visages surrounding them, marking the start of the winter holiday. They were as far from the toasty fire as could be, shivering slightly, but putting to full use the privacy their distance and their gloom provided them.

Draco opened the letter and read silently, in short moments he began to pale. The rest of the group shared worried looks.

"The Manor has been raided by the Ministry," he said and cleared his throat. "They didn't find anything, nothing serious anyway. Father has to pay a fine but he doesn't have to attend a court hearing or anything like that."

Draco seemed to pale and frown even further as he turned back to the rest of the letter. Harry and the others concern increase as they wondered what could be worse than the news of his home being raided. After a few minutes and page turns, he put the letter back in the envelope and sat silently.

"What's wrong, Draco?" Harry cooed.

"Father wants me to stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas break," Draco murmured. "He doesn't say why."

Gregory and Vincent shared grimaces, "Is he angry?" Vincent asked.

"I'm not sure," Draco swallowed. After a pause he turned to Ron, "Your father was there."

"What?" Ron squawked.

"At the manor when we were raided. Your father was one of the officials."

"Bloody hell," Ron groaned. "Your father thinks you said something to me and I told my dad."

"I think so," Draco nodded. "I think something must be happening at the manor over the holidays that he doesn't want me to know about."

"In case you tell me and I tell my dad and the ministry goes back."

"We'll keep our eyes open," Vincent said with a nod from Gregory.

With Dean, Gregory, Neville, Seamus, and Vincent gone home for the holidays, Ron, Harry, and Draco found their now spacious communal bed as luxurious as it was off-putting.

"It's colder now," Harry said with a dramatic shiver their first morning, and snatched up Dean's blanket for extra cover.

"But no bony elbows in the ribs," Ron glared and grinned at Draco.

Harry sent a glare toward Draco as well, "But no playing spoons either," he pouted.

During their weeks of planning and preparation, Ron and Harry had agreed to splurge just slightly with their Christmas spending, remembering that they wouldn't be able to explain the money if they went overboard. They did however agree that getting something extra nice for Ginny and encouraging their friends to do the same would be fine and dandy and not raise any fiscal eyebrows.

"You didn't forget that we're making each other our gifts," Harry pouted, "Did you?"

To which Ron replied with a snort without looking up from the pile of owl order catalogues before him.

Harry had just finished a note to Mister Axelrod and after a quick glance to check that Draco was still in the shower, he tossed the envelope onto their final order forms with a flourish.

Ron looked up from his finalising to inquire.

"I'm getting one of those talismany thing-a-ma-bobbies for Justin," Harry said, "I know it's expensive but he did get thrown over a railing because of me."

"Don't bother," Ron shrugged, "Waste of money if you ask me."

"What?" Harry shrieked and nearly tumbled off the bed in his excitement, but settled after a moment and lapsed into thought. "You all are working behind my back again aren't you? The lot of you have already got one for him!"

Ron blushed but shrugged again.

"Colin too?"

Ron coughed.

"Well that saves me having to get him one," Harry blew out a relieved breath, "He'd think I was proposing if I gave him jewellery. Or any gift at all really. Whew!" He paused and fiddled with the now unnecessary letter, "Is Draco paying for all of this?"

Ron gave a glance of his own toward the shower-room and grinned wickedly. Half under his breath he said, "Think Malfoy's feeling a bit guilty, seeing as it's his dad's fault this whole thing started and all."

Between lunches with Hagrid, delightful bouts of roughhousing in the snow with the twins, Dark Arts and its Defence work with Hermione, pestering Percy until he had no choice but to spend time with them, daily notes to friends, receiving owl orders and wrapping gifts, and making use of the empty castle and Harry's invisibility cloak, Christmas Eve arrived almost completely without their notice.

Harry had decided to make Christmas Eve with Hagrid an honoured tradition and left the Great Hall with the very tickled man as soon as he had swallowed his final swish of pumpkin juice.

"So?" Harry peered up from deep in the folds of an enormous, overstuffed chair and began the conversation he'd been repeating with Hagrid ever since they had told him about Myrtle's statement.

"Eh?" Hagrid grinned.

"Hagrid!" Harry whined and shimmied, "Has Headmaster Dumbledore been to see Myrtle? Did he talk with the Board of Governors? Do you have a new wand? What's happening?"

Hagrid burst into guffaws at Harry's rush of words, "Little dainty," he grinned, "I think yeh'all 'ave really done it this time. I can't award yeh points, but I can tell yeh, I don' think I've ever been 'appier, if that's worth anything to yeh."

"Oh Hagrid!" Harry squealed and hurried over to hug his friend with all his might, "So you're cleared?"

"Just abou'," he said. "Dumbledore confirmed it wit' Myrtle jus' the other day, an' informed the Board an' the Ministry immediately. Myrtle's made a full statement even. Now's we're just waitin' aroun' for the official word, jus' a paper sayin' I've got me full adult wand rights."

"Can I come with you when you go to find your new wand?" Harry asked.

Hagrid's eyes slipped toward the pink umbrella leaning upside down near the front door, "Well ..." he said.

"Hagrid," Harry rolled his eyes, "It's broken! Besides," he hushed, "You never know when a secret umbrella wand might come in handy."

Harry awoke still giddy at Hagrid's news. He wiggled out of bed with a squeal and hurried through his morning routine with Ron and Draco so as to get to their presents as soon as possible. Knowing he would soon be happily ensconced in a mum Weasley made jumper, Harry took few pains with his Christmas morn wardrobe.

"Going wild today, Cupcake?"

Harry shook his slightly tamed, though ungelled mane at his friend, "I'm using Draco's mousse."

"What's mousse?" Ron asked before shaking his head, "Don't answer that, I don't need to know."

"A little hair care wouldn't hurt you, Ron," Harry frowned, "Gingers have special needs and can be super grumpy."

Ron waved Harry's little hands away from his fiery locks and turned to Draco for assistance.

"He's right you know," Draco narrowed his eyes, "A little product wouldn't hurt you."

"Where's Vince and Greg when you need them?"

"Well Greg is probably opening his present from Nevi right about now," Harry giggled.

"And Vince spent most of last year chasing after Cupcake."

"You'd have better luck with Hermione," Harry said and harrumphed, "Now _there's_ a girl who needs a lesson in hair care."

"Hey!" a muffled squeal called from behind the door, "I heard that!" Hermione yelled.

With great relief, Ron hurried to let her into the room.

"What is with the bed in here?" Hermione peeked around the enormous pile of gifts levitated before her to roll her eyes at Harry, "This was _your_ idea, wasn't it?"

Harry grinned cheekily, "Actually it was Ron's."

The foursome climbed onto the bed in question and propped up on pillows and against the head and footboards to form into a circle with their gifts piled before them. Harry took a deep breath and hoped that between the Malfoy's impeccable grooming and Hermione's sense of propriety, no questions would come from either of them.

"Did you open your gifts already?" Draco glared at Harry, "That's why you got up so early, isn't it?"

Ron and Harry shared a quick look of panic.

"Harry's Jaundiced," Ron sputtered. "They don't celebrate Christmas."

"You mean Jewish, Ron," Hermione frowned, "And no he isn't. Since when do you know anything about muggle religions anyway?"

"My dad taught me," Ron thrust out his chest.

"Look," Draco groaned. "I fed you an obvious opening there. You two are supposed to cotton on that I know something and come clean about it already! Or are you going to keep pretending that nothing's happening?"

"Why would you think something's happening?" Harry whimpered.

"Weasley told me."

"Malfoy!" Ron exclaimed.

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed.

"It's because you like boys, isn't it? Weasley told me last year about muggles not liking gay people and I asked Hermione about it over the summer -"

"Malfoy!" Ron exclaimed again, now blushing profusely. "You were supposed to shut up about that!"

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed again, with a blush to equal Ron's. "You were the one that was supposed to keep your mouth shut!"

Draco waved both their comments away, "Hermione said it was true sometimes and sent me some articles she clipped from the muggle news. But then she went on and on when we were on the train about how great your relatives were about you liking wizards, because they bought you that handbag, and I knew something was wrong. Weasley said-"

"Dammit Malfoy," Ron groaned.

"Oh, it's a bit late for that, Ron," Harry pouted.

"Weasley said that you felt bad at home. It's because of that, isn't it? Your relatives aren't nice to you because you like wizards."

"And then when you heard the basilisk in the walls," Hermione continued, "You said something about how strange things used to happen and you didn't know what they were until _Hagrid_ explained that you were a wizard, but that means that your aunt and uncle hadn't told you already, but they had to have known, so why wouldn't they have said anything?"

"There's no point pretending anymore, Cupcake," Draco shrugged, "We already know that something's up."

"You have to tell us Harry!" Hermione burst into tears. "'If you're going to keep secrets from your friends, you're supposed to be good enough at it that they don't suspect anything. And if they do suspect, you have to come clean. That's the rule.' Remember? You told me that yourself!"

Ron and Harry shared another look and shrugged at each other.

"Fine," Ron said as Harry gave a deep sigh, "But you can't say anything to anyone. We don't know for sure that there isn't anybody after Harry, so you can't let your father hear anything about it either."

"Alright."

"We need better than an 'alright,' Malfoy," Ron glared.

"Fine, fine! I promise I won't tell anyone!"

"And you too little Miss I Remember Every Silly Thing I've Ever Heard and Won't Hesitate to Throw it Back at the People Who Said Them," Harry pouted at Hermione. "If you run home and tell Mommy and Daddy and I wind up in some horrible orphanage ..."

"Harry," Hermione frowned.

"You can't tell anyone, Hermione," Ron said, "Nobody. Not your parents, and not McGonagall or Dumbledore either."

"Oh fine," Hermione sighed, "I promise."

"Good. Long story short. Harry's relatives hate magic -"

"And they're not so happy about me liking boys either."

"Right. Basically, they hate Harry. They didn't tell him anything about magic or Hogwarts for his whole life, and Harry even had to run away last year, just so he could come to school. He can't ever go back."

"Because if I do, they'll lock me back up in my cupboard and I'll never be allowed back to Hogwarts."

"Your cupboard?" Draco frowned in confusion.

"Er," Harry blushed, "I used to have a cupboard for a bedroom. Well not a cupboard exactly, more like a storage closet."

"A storage closet!" Draco exclaimed. "That's barbaric!"

"Like we said, they really hate Harry."

"But you're the Boy-Who-Lived!" Draco continued to sputter, "The Ministry, Dumbledore, how did the Dursleys keep this from them? Why didn't you tell someone when they came to check on you?"

"Because," Harry pouted, "Nobody ever came to check. And even if they did, they might not have done anything anyway."

"That's right," Ron nodded, "Harry's Hogwarts' letter was addressed to his 'Cupboard Under the Stairs' and everything. So they knew, or at least, someone important did."

"So that's why you two distrust Dumbledore so much." Draco mused under his breath. "I always thought it was a bit odd there was a Weasley that didn't look at him with doe eyes. No offence, Weasley."

"Right," Ron snorted.

"What about the summer?" Hermione was quick to mention, "Where were you before you went to Ron's house?"

"I signed up for Summer Camp," Harry hushed and turned to Draco, "It's this thing for muggles," he explained, "Kids can stay there for the summer and they feed you and have a place for you to sleep, and we got to wear chaps and ride horses."

Draco paled further, "You went to Knockturn Alley by yourself, then, didn't you!"

Harry nodded, "But I'm here now and I'm fine."

"But -" Hermione started.

"No buts," Harry gave his mane a wild shake, "If I go back to the Dursley's you'll never see me again. They'll snap my wand in two, burn my books, and make sure I never set foot in Hogwarts again. I'll be older and wiser come the end of term, so if I managed fine last summer when I was just a young fresh thing, I'll do twice as well with age and experience behind me."

"And Galleons," Ron added. "Harry didn't even have any money last summer, but he stocked up this time round."

"And worse comes to worse," Harry added with a full pout, "I can go to the Weasley's early."

"I couldn't have you to the Manor," Draco flushed, "Father might throw you off a balcony, and Vince and Greg couldn't have you over either, but you could spend a week or so with the Longbottoms."

"That's right!" Ron nodded, "That would do Neville good, I reckon. You wouldn't know it to look at him, but the Longbottoms are one of the scariest Light Side families out there."

"So I'd be safe there," Harry grinned, "And this is all assuming I can't go back to camp. Though it was a bit dreadful, so I might look into something else."

There was nothing more to say either in protest or defence, so the four turned to their gifts and soon began to lighten.

Harry squealed and near burst into tears when he opened his gift from Hagrid, a hand-woven belt made from flaxen fibre and unicorn hair, with a buckle shaped like a cauldron. The others were equally delighted to find they had been remembered by the Keeper of the Keys as well, though perhaps to a lesser degree than Harry had been.

Draco and Harry both grimaced and Hermione hid her giggles behind her hand when Ron held his traditional Weasley jumper up to his chest.

"Maroon again," Ron huffed, "I swear, that woman wants to make sure I never have a girlfriend."

"We'll trade again," Harry grinned, holding up his own emerald sweater.

"But you already have last year's maroon one," Ron shook his head.

"None of your brothers can trade with you though," Harry giggled.

"I can trade," Draco cleared his throat, and with a blush held up a navy cashmere vee neck. "Navy would be good with your hair, and maroon would look great with mine."

Ron gaped and stammered, "You can't trade _that_ for this!"

"Why not?" Draco sneered, "I've got a hundred of these, but I don't have anything like that."

Hermione and Harry exchanged a wink and grin as Draco snatched the maroon jumper from Ron's hands and pulled it over his head. Harry followed suit with his emerald one and Ron shook himself out of his stupor to pull on his new navy.

Harry batted at Ron's hands, "That's a cashmere vee neck," he rolled his eyes, "Put on a white or cream turtleneck first."

Ron nodded and hurried to rifle through his wardrobe.

"Honestly," Harry giggled, "He's just embarrassing sometimes!"

Harry finished with the gifts from his personally assembled family and was surprised to find his unwrapping incomplete, he nibbled his bottom lip at what remained.

"What about those?" Ron gestured to the lingering packages.

"Well," Harry peeped, gesturing toward the deep crimson wrap he was sure was from Mister Axelrod. Ron's eyes widened and he turned to his own pile, finding a box with similar adornment. The two boys shrugged at each other and delved in, sure that Mister Axelrod would be properly judicious.

'Use with discretion' was written on both Harry and Ron's otherwise unsigned cards.

"Why did he send you something, Weasley?" Draco frowned.

"Because I'm Second-in-Command," Ron grinned. "Jealous?"

"Oh shut up."

The two opened their packages and while Harry ooohed at the fashionable bronze wristband contained within, Ron was immediately enthralled.

"These are Band-Its!" he exclaimed.

"Those are class one restricted items," Draco awed, "Father has one of course, but most aurors don't even own them!"

Indeed, the enclosed directions relayed just how desirable an item a Band-It was. The bands would warm if an enemy was near, the hotter the band the more immediate or perilous the danger.

Harry and Ron both slipped their gifts onto their wrists; the bracelets immediately shrunk to fit flush against their skin.

"I thought it said it should feel 'noticeably cool in a safe environment'?" Harry frowned.

"We're not in a safe environment, are we?" Ron snorted, his band was slightly warm to the touch as well, "Having Riddlemort in the castle should be enough to set it off."

Draco nodded, "I'd be worried if it wasn't warm at all, considering."

Harry allowed the morning light to glitter off his new accessory one last time before turning to the next mystery parcel.

"Deloise Crawberry," he gave the red velvet box a shake, "I wonder where I met a Crawberry?"

"And when did you give her permission to write to you?" Hermione worried.

"She could be from summer camp," Harry said. "I might be on their mailing list or something." He opened the box to reveal a palm sized crystal unicorn.

"Oh that's pretty!" Hermione awed but sobered quickly when the crystal form shook its mane and began a slow trot across the bed, "But it's obviously magically made, Harry. You couldn't have met her at camp."

"Maybe she's on the Board of Governors or high up in the Ministry or a friend of Dumbledore or something?" Harry shrugged, "I got my Hogwart's letter without giving Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall permission, so there are some people who are allowed whether I say so or not, I guess she's just one of them." Hermione was still frowning but fawning over the figurine nonetheless. "Why don't you have it?" Harry peeped, "I don't have anywhere to put such a thing."

Ron snorted, "Not pretty enough for you, Cupcake?"

Harry glared, "With all you brutes running about it would wind up broken in here!"

Harry placed the figurine back in its box and handed it to an overjoyed Hermione with gentle care before turning to the next in line. From a G Smythe, it contained a vast assortment of sugary treats, the inside of the box proving to be much larger than the outside suggested. Hermione warned him against eating the candy without first having it inspected by a professor, but as Ron had already begun digging in without untoward effects, it seemed an unnecessary concern. Harry's final gift was untagged; to appease Hermione, he gave it a gingerly poke with his wand.

"Open it Harry," Ron said, "The last time you got an unsigned gift, it was Dumbledore giving you your invisibility cloak."

Harry nodded and peeled back the wrap.

"An old journal?" Hermione frowned at the battered leather bound book.

"Maybe this was my parents' as well!" Harry exclaimed, he held the book closer and tilted it so the light would glint off the gold inscription. "T.M. Riddle."

The group sat in silence for a moment.

"Bollocks."

"It might still be from Dumbledore," Draco broke the silence. "He gave us that roundabout warning in the infirmary that night, this could be more of the same."

"Giving Harry the heads up on what Riddlemort is all about?" Ron frowned.

"I suppose You-Know-Who, or Riddle, or whoever he is now, wouldn't send Harry his own journal," Hermione mused.

"It could be from my father," Draco whispered.

"I don't know," Hermione said, seeming appalled that anything untoward could come from a book, "Harry's touched it already and nothing has happened, has it Harry?"

"Hermione," said Ron, with an apprehensive glance at the battered journal. "Books can be dangerous. Dad's told me about some the Ministry has confiscated, everyone who read Sonnets of a Sorcerer spoke in limericks for the rest of their lives -"

"- Father's got a spell book charmed to sever your tongue if you're not a Malfoy and try to read any of the spells aloud -"

"- There was one that burned your eyes out -"

"- There are storybooks you can give to your kids if you think they're squibs and you want to preserve the purity of your line -"

"- There's a witch in Bath had a book that you could never stop reading! You just had to wander around with your nose in it, trying to do everything one-handed -"

"- They'd fade away page by page and by the end of it, poof! dirty little secret dead and gone."

Hermione and Harry were both pale and trembling at their words.

"And none of those books were written by the Dark Lord," Draco finished, "You've beaten him twice already, maybe now he just wants to keep you out of his way."

"Having me speaking dirty limericks my whole life doesn't seem quite his style," Harry wrinkled his nose and tried to stop his shivering. "Though burning my eyes out and severing my tongue might be up his alley."

"Let's just think for a minute," Hermione took a deep breath. "It can't be from your father, Draco, because Harry definitely has never given him permission to write, right Harry?"

Harry nodded, "Right."

"Father is very powerful," Draco said nodding as well, "But there's no way Dumbledore would have let him be one of the people allowed to contact Cupcake."

"But it could still be Riddlemort himself," Ron shrugged, "We don't know how it was delivered, Riddle's been showing up all over the place, he could have put it here himself, no post needed."

The boys stopped and gulped at the thought that Voldemort himself may have been in their room while they slept.

"But I'd be dead, wouldn't I?" Harry whispered. "He'd have tried something. And my scar!" he exclaimed, "My scar would have flared up, I'd have woken up for sure. So it can't be from him. He can't post me, and he couldn't have come close to me without my scar knowing."

They breathed a sigh, or three, of relief.

"Thank goodness," Hermione whispered. Steadier now, she reached into the pockets of her robe and pulled out -

"You carry a quill and ink in your pyjamas?" Ron snorted with awe and laughter.

Hermione glared but turned up her nose and concentrated on Harry instead. They composed a list of everyone they could think of that was able to send post to Harry.

"And you're sure you haven't given anyone else permission?" she pressed. "Not even some cute boy you might have told to write you without thinking that-"

Harry harrumphed, "I can handle myself around a cute boy, thank you very much! The only other person I can think of, is Dobby. If it isn't from Dumbledore, then maybe Dobby popped it over for me, thinking it could help."

"But that would mean it came from the Manor," Draco groaned, "That means Father still may -"

"Dobby would have warned me if he was sending it for your father," Harry stated adamantly, "I'm sure of it."

Harry shook his head and looked at the book that had been pushed to the centre of the bed, equally away from each of them. With a shrug he leaned back and flicked the cover open with his big toe.

Nothing.

No bangs, no flashes, and curiously, no writing.

"It's blank," Ron said, "That can't be right, can it?"

With a pale face and trembling hand, Hermione picked up the journal and flipped through the pages, all blank. Her revealing spells uncovered no hidden secrets, nor did her counter curses. She pulled out her quill again.

"What are you doing?" Draco frowned.

"Well," she shrugged, "When you give someone a blank book, it's because you want them to write in it."

"I should do it -" Harry started.

"No!" the three others all shouted. Ron ushered everyone off the bed and had Hermione kneel on the floor using the mattress as a desk. He and Draco crouched on her either side with one hand gripping her robes and the other their wands.

"Just in case it does something," Ron blushed.

Hermione took a deep breath and nodded to the boys,

My name is Harry Potter, she wrote.

The wet ink sat for a moment while they watched, then seemed to be sucked right into the page leaving it blank.

They gasped, then gasped again when the ink returned, being almost pushed back out onto the page.

Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?

"I don't like this," Draco frowned, "Is this a spell or is it really him?"

Harry took a deep breath and leaned over to close the journal with a resounding snap.

Hermione nodded, "That's enough for now. We write, he responds and we don't know how -"

"No, no, no, no, no, no," Ron groaned, "We're not spending Christmas day in the library."

Both Harry and Ron promised to pay attention to any changes their Band-Its might exhibit and they all agreed to dismiss their concerns until the following day, though agreements aside, it was a rather more sombre group that entered the Great Hall than one would expect for a Christmas morning.

"Looky here, Fred," George singsonged, "Ickle Ronnikins done bleached his hair."

The two pulled Draco down to sit between them.

With the twins busy playing 'Ron gone blond', Harry plopped down at the table next to Percy, and snuggled up rather closer than was necessary.

"I still like girls, Harry," Percy grinned.

"Oh don't say that," Harry gasped, "It's Christmas!"


	14. Cornelius Fudge

**Chapter 14 - Cornelius Fudge**

Their spirits remained light throughout the day, reaching a crescendo of joy upon entering the Great Hall for Christmas dinner. The room was glistening with crystalline ice walls and a snow covered floor, though the temperature was delightfully toasty. The students and staff shared a single long table, which was likewise made of ice yet comfortable to the touch. Mammoth intricate snowflakes made of fire fell as if from the sky, lighting and warming the room, disappearing before touching down on anything or anybody; proper snowflakes fell alongside them, reflecting the firelight throughout the hall to cascade across every glittering surface.

Harry shivered with delight, "How luxurious!" he awed as regal snowmen bowed to the students and pulled their chairs out for them at the table.

Even Draco was impressed and acknowledged as much by clearing his throat as he sat down across from his glowing friend and next to an enthralled Hermione.

Ron took his place between Harry and Percy and ran his fingers over the velvet wrapped, lace tied crackers before him. He and Percy pulled at one and were astonished at the notably missing POP! Instead, angelic voices sang a Christmas carol as a rush of glitter and snow burst from the cloth and settled to reveal the prize inside.

Ron leaned over to whisper to Harry with a grin, "If Dumbledore's aiming to make up for the castle being invaded by Riddlemort and Ginny being in the hospital, well he's sure going about it right."

Harry shushed the boy with a giggle and glanced around the table. Far fewer students had opted to stay at Hogwarts for the holiday that year, what with the attacks and such, and of those that initially chose to stay, most had changed their minds once word spread that the one and only Enemy of the Heir, Harry Potter, had elected to remain for the holidays as well. In fact, Harry thought as his eyes danced over the handful of redheads, the platinum blond, the bushy curls, and the wiry scraggles, this was the closest thing to a family Christmas he had ever had.

"You alright, Cupcake?" Ron worried at his teary eyed friend.

Harry nodded with a wide grin.

Once everyone was stuffed to bursting and overloaded with gifts from the Christmas crackers, Hagrid walked the students back to Gryffindor Tower. When he returned to his hut, he was full to the brim with hugs and thanks.

With Draco and Hermione staying for Christmas, Ron and Harry had invited the two into their post evening tea, final gifting, wherein they opened their cards and gifts to each other.

After finishing with the others gifts and cards, Ron and Harry turned to their remaining presents, having saved their gifts for absolute last.

Ron had put together a scroll of 10 'Get Safe Quick' spells for Harry, complete with hand drawn wand movements paired with the spells' phonetic syllables. He chewed the insides of his cheeks in nervous wait for Harry's reaction.

Harry's eyes went wide and he let loose with a squeal, a moment later Ron had a lap full of the smaller boy and was being squeezed under the grip of Harry's hug.

"Geez," Ron blushed, "What's Oliver feeding you!" He busied himself opening his gift from Harry and sat stunned when he found a spray bottle of water, a folded bed sheet, a pair of scissors, and his own blue plastic comb inside the ornately wrapped box. "Erm ..."

"Silly," Harry giggled, "Those are just the tools I need so I can give you your present." He draped the bed sheet around Ron's neck, covering his full body, and paused after sending the first spray of water, gauging Ron's reaction. Harry was pleased to note that the redhead remained still, sitting with a puzzled grin, waiting and trusting his friend. He continued spraying until the orange locks were soaked dark.

"You have lovely hair," Harry said, "But I keep wondering if maybe mum Weasley has been parting it on the side, putting a pudding bowl over and trimming around."

"Yup!" Ron agreed, causing Harry to pause halfway through his first snip. Once recovered, he continued his careful cutting, and kept his giggles in check.

"You're cutting his hair for Christmas?" Draco puzzled.

"Um-hmm," Harry said deep in concentration. "And I'm going to spruce it up as often as he'll let me."

"And you did that Get Safe Quick scroll yourself then, didn't you!" Hermione gasped.

"Keep still!" Harry yelped as Ron nodded in answer to their inquiries.

"But there are ten spells in here," she sputtered, "Ten great spells, that I've never even heard of!"

"I looked them up."

"But that's a lot of research and work and ..." she trailed off.

Ron shrugged, "Yeah, but Harry still has to learn them -"

"But it'll be easy as pie with what you've done!" Harry squealed and put the scissors down for a moment to squeeze his friend again.

Hermione and Draco sat quietly while Harry snipped and styled. He used his wand to dry and set Ron's new coif and collect the cut hair.

"All done," he grinned and scooped up the bed sheet. Ron hurried to the bathroom to inspect his new do and came back stammering with thanks and awe. After hugging Harry till his Christmas dinner began to stir, he couldn't even blush when Harry kissed his cheek.

"What are you two so quiet about?" Harry pouted still snuggled in Ron's now half embrace. Ron's other hand was busy running his fingers through the now soft and light, feathery copper layers.

"Did you plan this?" Hermione frowned. "That you would make things for each other?"

"Of course," Ron snorted, "It's not like we've got a lot of money, so we save some by making things for each other instead -"

"Then we have more to spend on you guys," Harry finished with a worried frown. "Plus we share Twinkle, so it's too hard to hide our owl orders from each other. What's wrong with that?"

"I know how to do stuff too, you know!" Draco sniped. "I don't spend money because I haven't any skills!"

"What?" Ron and Harry puzzled, shocked at the outburst.

"It's just," Hermione started and paused. "Nothing. Should we send the others an owl do you think? Or wait to tell them about the diary until they come back?"

oo0oOo0oo

Boxing Day morning found the group of four sleeping late and puttering pyjama clad into the Great Hall for breakfast. They ate quickly with no small amount of nervous anticipation and made sure to load up plates of fruit, muffins, and scones for later on. Once back in the boy's dorm and affirming that the diary of T.M. Riddle was still locked in Draco's trunk - his being the most secure, they got down to business.

With a muggle notebook open before her, Hermione leaned against the headboard and nibbled the end of her quill.

"What do we know so far?" she asked.

"Nothing," Ron snorted. "We don't know who sent the diary, we don't know how Riddlemort is using the diary to write back, we don't know why anyone would want to give _Harry Potter_ of all people a direct line to talk to Riddlemort -"

"Alright, Weasley," Draco sneered, "We get it."

"There could be spells that allow people to communicate through books," Hermione said. "If we have this book and he has one connected to it -"

"Then maybe some spell is sending our words his way and his words our way," Harry nodded, "Makes you wonder who he was talking to before us."

Draco paled as all eyes turned his way, "I thought we already said that my father couldn't have sent it?"

"Dobby still may have," Harry nibbled his bottom lip, "If he thought that getting the book away from your father would keep me safe, he may have done that. The only thing that doesn't make sense is why he wouldn't have told me, and how he didn't wake us up with his punishing himself."

"He may not have wanted me to know he was here," Draco whispered, "It isn't like he could get you alone, so he may have just popped in and popped out again."

"Why would he wrap it up like a gift though?" Hermione questioned.

"Dobby didn't seem exactly ...," Harry sent a sheepish shrug Draco's way, "You know, _sane_. And he's clearly bumped his head around one time too many. Though that does seem weird, even for him."

"We can ask Greg and Vincent when they return," Draco said, "If our parents seemed really angry about something, then maybe they did have the diary before and it's gone missing."

"Well that's one theory," Ron shook his fingers through his hair and squashed down the grin that came with the action, "But what if the diary was sent on purpose, what if someone _wanted_ Cupcake talking to Riddlemort?"

"Why would they want that?" Harry peeped, "You don't think he can cast spells on us through the diary, do you?"

"I don't know about that," Draco frowned, "But if the book is spelled right, he could probably do other things. Read the thoughts that go through our minds when we're writing in it maybe?"

"Or maybe implant thoughts when he's writing back," Ron shivered. "Are you having any weird ideas, Hermione? Feel a bit angry toward Harry, maybe? Feeling like climbing the ledge of the highest Astronomy Tower?"

"That isn't funny!" Hermione slammed her quill down.

"I wasn't joking!" Ron snapped back, "If you're going to be the one writing in that thing, you have to pay attention in case he starts putting thoughts in your head."

"Or taking thoughts out," Harry added.

"I only wrote one line," Hermione said, "And he only wrote one line back."

"Still," Draco mused, "We'd better search for detection spells, so we can make sure it's safe enough or at least have an idea of what to expect. Though, if the Dark Lord is using it to speak with his ... associates, then the book itself is probably not dangerous."

"Unless it needs a codeword to disable the dangerous spells," Ron snorted.

"There's that," Draco agreed.

Hermione began the list of research topics with 'Spells for Detecting Dark and Bespelled Artefacts,' and followed it up with 'Spells for Communication Between Inanimate Objects.'

"You know," Ron burst out in a laugh, "If Dobby really did bring the diary, then I reckon old Riddlemort must have wet himself when he saw that _Harry Potter_ was the one saying hello!"

"Ron!" Harry giggled, "Dark Lord's don't wet themselves."

"Well Riddlemort -"

"Oh stop calling him that!" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Well what do _you_ call a Tom Riddle that became the Dark Lord Volde," Ron paused and cast furtive looks around the empty room before whispering, "Voldemort ... who went and became Tom Riddle again?"

"Riddle-Yoo-Hoo," Harry giggled.

"Harry!" Hermione chastised.

"Voldemiddle," Draco smirked.

"Draco!"

"I say Riddlemort does it best," Ron said, "Honestly Hermione, what _do_ you call him then?"

Hermione's glare soon turned to a blush, "Well," she cleared her throat, "I've been thinking of him as Viddles myself, but I know better than to say it out loud! This isn't funny, Ron."

"Oh honey," Harry giggled, "Viddles is perfect."

After glaring for another moment, Hermione rolled her eyes, "Fine," she squashed down a giggle and cleared her throat, "I think we need to figure out if Harry was intended to receive the diary."

Harry's joyous flush went pale, "I don't know," he said, "It didn't actually have my name on it, so it could have been for someone else, it could have been for one of you even, and just wound up in my pile."

"But it _was_ wrapped," Ron added, "So whoever had it, meant to give it to someone, if you're using a book, you wouldn't keep it gift wrapped."

Draco nodded, "So whoever had it last, intended to get rid of it." He paused and paled to near translucent, "What if my father _did_ have it?" he whispered.

"But we know your father can't send post to Harry," Ron shook his head.

"But he can send post to me," Draco took a deep breath and moved to the end of the bed. "I sleep right next to Harry, if the book were on the top of my pile of gifts, it could easily have slipped off and onto Harry's pile. I get quite a number of presents you know."

"But why?" Hermione worried her brow, "Why would your father send you a link to Viddles? He knows you're friends with Harry, you would never use it against him."

Draco seemed to brighten at her show of trust but soon paled again, "But _he_ doesn't know that _we_ know who Tom Riddle really is. And he isn't exactly pleased about the way my friendships have turned out. I think he rather hoped I would only pretend to be friends with the Boy-Who-Lived, not actually be friends with Harry."

"He may have sent you the diary so Viddles could turn you against Harry then," Ron nodded, "Not just Harry I reckon, but against me and Hermione too. Weasleys and muggleborn girls don't rank very high with your father either remember."

"And if Viddles can influence our thoughts at all through the diary ... " Hermione trailed off. "Do you remember if the diary was placed on your stack of gifts securely, Harry? Or was it off to the side?"

Harry gave them a full body wiggle, "I don't know," he wailed, "But I remember something else." He looked around the room and waited for the others to lean in closer. "Last year, when we went to stop Quirrell and Yoo Hoo from getting the Stone, well ..."

"What is it, Harry!" Ron worried.

"When I went into the mirror room, where Quirrell and Yoo Hoo were, they were looking at the mirror and trying to figure out how it worked. Then Quirrell took off his turban and turned around so the Yoo Hoo head could speak to me, well the Yoo Hoo head looked at me and told Quirrell that I knew how to use the mirror. I hadn't said anything -"

"So he must have read your mind," Ron paled.

"I think so."

"What did it feel like, Harry," Hermione whispered.

"Like nothing," Harry said, "But I was so busy being frightened that I wouldn't have noticed even if it _did _feel like something. He just looked at me and then he knew."

"But you were in the mirror room, and you would have recognised it," Ron said, "So you would have at least been thinking about it when he read your mind, he wouldn't have had to, you know, dig around, right?"

"I guess so," Harry said, "I think I was thinking about the mirror, I wanted to distract them so they wouldn't have time to figure out how to use it."

"So then he didn't see what the inscription said," Ron breathed a sigh of relief, "He didn't see your knowledge of what the mirror was. See, you weren't thinking about what the mirror did, just that it could do something and you didn't want them to figure it out."

"I don't know," Harry wailed, "I suppose so. Why?"

"Because it means he could only see what you were thinking right then," Ron said, "And he didn't go fishing through your mind. It means he doesn't know about the Dursleys and you running away."

Hermione turned back to her quill and added 'Mind Reading' to her list of researchables.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Draco frowned.

"I didn't know!" Harry wailed again, "I didn't even think of it until now. It seemed like the least important thing that happened in there. And when we talked about Dumbledore reading minds, well I never connected it that he and Voldemort would ever have the same skills."

"Hey, it's okay, Cupcake," Ron rubbed the frantic boy's back, "Errgh, we have so much work to do," he groaned.

Mr and Mrs Weasley arrived in the afternoon to spend time with their boys, leaving Harry, Hermione, and Draco to begin their extensive research.

"Do you ever Floo home to see your parents?" Draco asked.

Hermione shook her head, "They're not connected, but we owl often."

Harry patted Draco's hand and offered a soft smile, "The Weasleys didn't come to visit last Christmas, Draco."

Draco sneered, "Weren't they in Romania last Christmas?"

Harry sighed, "Your father may be trying to kill me, but that doesn't mean your parents aren't good parents, Draco."

"Harry's right," Hermione said, "They owl often, and doesn't your mum always put those packages together for you, she knows all your favourite things."

"Sure," Draco scowled, "Let's just ignore the part where my father thinks having my mind influenced and my thoughts stolen by the Dark Lord is a great Christmas gift, or have we ruled that out?"

"Draco," Harry started.

"Fine!" Draco shrugged, "My father loves me. Great. He just hates you more." He let out a long breath, "This tome is useless," he said, "Unless the diary is cursed with nothing worse than a Jelly-Legs hex."

Harry and Hermione shared a worried grimace and got back to work.

oo0oOo0oo

After a few days of frenzied study, Harry received a note so messy as to be worrisome, inviting them for a late lunch.

"Hagrid, are you quite alright?" Harry fretted for the seventh time since his first bit of scone.

"Yup," the great man nodded absently, "Just putting the water on to boil."

Harry and the others looked down at their full cups and exchanged worried glances at Hagrid's distraction, even Hagrid's hound, Fang, seemed nervous.

After conversing with Hagrid's nods and disconnected comments for some time, a knock came from outside, "Hagrid?" a familiar voice called.

Hagrid leapt a foot from his chair, sending the room into trembles when he came back down. He scrambled from his seat and hurried to open the door.

"Professor Dumbledore!" he exclaimed, "An' Minister Fudge!"

The students scrambled to stand and look: a portly little man in a lime green bowler hat and a pinstriped cloak so expensive that even Draco took notice, had strode into the hut with short, bold strides. Just behind him was their Headmaster. With worried glances, the four scrambled again, this time to do what they could to keep their minds from being read. Draco opted to huddle behind Hagrid. Ron began stuffing his mouth with as much food as he could shovel in. Harry and Hermione adopted more cerebral methods, with Harry singing showtunes in his head and humming under his breath, and Hermione mentally reviewing spells and muggle arithmetic.

"Well," the Minister extended his arm, "You must be Harry Potter, a pleasure to meet you."

Harry paused with his mental ditty to give the minister his firmest manliest shake, "The pleasure is all mine, sir," he beamed, "Hagrid has been teaching us all about politics and says you're the best Minister for Magic he's seen in some time. Bold decisions, always looking out for the little guy."

"Well I don't know about the _little_ guy," Fudge said with a wink toward Hagrid, "But I have done well if I do say so myself."

"You'll know Arthur Weasley, of course," Harry continued, "This is his youngest son, Ronald, our friend Hermione Granger, and," he glanced around but as Draco was still hiding behind Hagrid was forced to stop, "Well, I guess that's everyone."

"Wonderful," Fudge nodded, "You'll have to come and pay a visit to the Ministry sometime Harry, have a proper coming out to the wizarding world."

"I think I'm already out, sir," Harry puzzled. Fudge puzzled back but smiled serenely.

"Ahem," Dumbledore cut in, "Minister Fudge?"

"Ah, yes," he cleared his throat, "Rubeus Hagrid, a great injustice has been done, I regret that such oversights were made in the Ministry, but such were the times. I'm glad to say that under my administration, the Ministry of Magic has been restored to its days of glory, where even the most trifling of matters can be addressed. Every vote counts!"

As if in fast forward, the Minister adopted a benign smile, planted a thin scroll in Hagrid's hands, tipped his hat, warned Hagrid not to apparate without a licence, reminded Harry to stay in touch, paused while Dumbledore congratulated his Keeper of Keys, and hurried out the door.

"Whagga jaguss," Ron mumbled from around a mouth stuffed to the cheeks with pierogies.

"Ronald!" Hermione and Hagrid exclaimed together.

"Now what was all that about?" Hagrid fretted. "I've never seen yeh all so nervous."

The students shared a look, "We just so wanted you to get your wand rights back, Hagrid," Hermione said, her mental arithmetic having improved her improvisation some, "And then the Minister himself came to give you your papers, I was just doing my best not to burst into tears."

"Me too!" Harry chimed in while pouncing on the enormous man and squeezing with all his might. "And what about you?" he squealed from deep in the wide collar of Hagrid's shirt. "You should have _warned_ us he was coming today!"

"Diddin' know fer sure 'e was," Hagrid beamed, "Jus' needed some company ter 'elp settle me nerves in case it all turned out."

Once everyone had their chance to hug their friend, they settled back down to the table for a celebratory cup of hot chocolate.

"Can I come with you when you get your new wand?" Harry wide-eyed.

"I don' see why not," Hagrid grinned back, "We can send'an owl righ' quick, get permission fer you teh leave the castle."

"I'll need permission?" Harry deflated into a full pout, "I don't think Uncle Vernon would allow it, Hagrid," his eyes watered and widened, "But nobody really has to know I came with you, do they?"

"Little dainty," Hagrid narrowed his eyes.

"Oh fine," Harry pouted again.

oo0oOo0oo

"Well that went well," Draco sneered once they had been safely returned to Gryffindor Tower. "Hopefully there's someone for me to hide behind the next time Dumbledore comes around."

"My stomach hurts," Ron moaned.

"Do you think it worked though?" Harry pouted, "We haven't been called into Dumbledore's office just yet, so maybe he didn't see anything. Maybe he wasn't even looking. Do you think he can control it? Or does he read everybody's minds all the time? Oooh, think of all the naughty things he's seen!"

"We have to learn more about this," Hermione sighed, "I want to be a Prefect one day, and then Head Girl, how can I expect to attain those positions if I can't be in the same room as the Headmaster without looking an idiot?"

"Axelrod?" Ron grinned and groaned, still clutching his stomach.

"I don't know," Hermione frowned, "However it's done, if the Headmaster is doing it, it might not be quite the Purple-eyed man's area."

"Yoo Hoo does it too, remember?" Harry rolled his eyes, "Besides, have you found anything in the library yet?"

Hermione glared in response, "Not yet, but we've only just begun."

"It's been days, Hermione," Draco smirked, "My Floo powder's in the nightstand."

"Don't fret, Hermione," Harry giggled, "We can ask him about the diary as well."

oo0oOo0oo

Harry brushed his hair forward, covering his scar completely before pitching the powder into the fire.

"Hello Mister Axelrod," Harry chirped. He leaned back slightly to give the heartthrob a full look at the room and who was in it.

"Hello Mister Cole," he said with a tilt of his head, "And Mister Redford, I trust you both are enjoying your gifts?"

"Oh yes," Harry squealed, "They're so stylish!"

"And useful," Ron added with a wry grin.

"Wonderful," the purple-eyed man smirked. "Now, is this a social call, or is there something I can help you with?"

"Well we wanted to thank you, of course," Harry said with a sheepish grin, "But we need a little help with something as well."

The purple-eyed man sent Harry into a mild swoon with a lopsided grin and a raised eyebrow.

"Well it's like this," Harry went through their accumulated list of questions. "It isn't as though we haven't done our homework, we just haven't the proper resources available, nor the proper resources to find out what the proper resources even are. We're making some progress with the detection spells, and the spells to enchant inanimate objects for communication, but we can't find anything about what someone might be able to do or what spells they could cast through the communication portal. And we can only find references to mind reading, enough to know that it can be done but no particulars."

"Does this relate to what you all have been protecting yourselves from this year?" he frowned slightly.

"Probably does," Harry said.

"Have you considered simply not using the object in question?" Axelrod smirked, "Or perhaps turning it over to an authority figure?"

"Er," Harry frowned, "Not exactly."

Axelrod raised another eyebrow.

"Well," Harry blushed, "We'll think about it. But in the meantime ...?"

"I have a few texts which may be of assistance," he answered after a pause, "I trust they will be returned to me in the condition they're received, and in a timely manner."

"Of course, Mister Axelrod," Harry bobbed his head, "Thank you."

"Mister Cole," he raised his hand to stop Harry closing the Floo, "Be very careful."

Harry nodded as the man ended the call.

"Turn it over to an authority?" Ron mused. "I hadn't thought of that."

Hermione frowned, "We're worrying about it reading our minds, implanting thoughts -"

"Severing our tongues and burning our eyes out -" Harry added.

"Maybe it wouldn't hurt to get rid of the thing and give it to the Headmaster," she finished.

"Have you forgotten about my father," Draco started, "We don't know if he's the one who sent it."

"And Dumbledore is probably clever enough to trace it back to him if he did," Ron groaned. "You know, Malfoy, it strikes me that it would save us a whole lot of bother if _your father_ would just stop trying to kill us."

Draco shrugged but couldn't argue.

"Couldn't you ask him? Your father?" Hermione mused.

Ron nodded, "You could say that Harry got a weird diary for Christmas and you wanted his advice about what to do with it?"

"That isn't bad," Harry nodded, "And maybe tell him that I'm considering having Dumbledore check it out."

"Well this couldn't really get any worse, could it?" Draco gave a one-shouldered shrug and snatched Hermione's quill.

"Ronald Redford?" Hermione whispered to Harry before heading to the girl's dorm for bed.

"He doesn't know," Harry giggled. "And don't tell him either, he'd just think we were making fun."

"Well we would be!" Hermione giggled, "Have you seen him constantly running his fingers through his hair? Peeking into every shiny object to take a look at himself. You've created a monster."

"I'll take the monster over the mullet any day," Harry grinned.

oo0oOo0oo

The boys awoke to find three books wrapped in brown paper stacked at the foot of the bed, preened over by a familiar glossy raven owl that seemed to nod once at Ron's sleep muddled blinking eyes, before flying off.

"He must have sent the books right away," Ron yawned.

Harry huddled under his blankets and peeked at the stack of books through a small slit he had formed around his eyes and nose, "He did warn us to be careful, he must have been worried we'd just start using the diary whether he helped us or not."

Draco padded through the blankets to unwrap the texts, "_'Secrets Found & Secrets Kept: A complete guide to Occlumency and Legilimency.'_ That sounds about right," he mused. He ran his fingers across a thick tome _Detecting the Undetectable_ and the slightly thinner _Channelling Magic._

"We'll begin with Occlumency," Hermione announced under her breath during breakfast, "Even if the diary is too dangerous to use, we'll still need a way to protect our minds from the Headmaster without embarrassing ourselves, so we won't be wasting our time learning how."

"We can work through the detection spells as we go ..." Draco trailed off to look at the scarce morning owl deliveries swooping into the Hall. "Father's already replied," he whispered. "I guess that answers that question."

The group blanched, their chance to be rid of the diary was gone. Draco collected his post and opened the thin envelope at once. With a muffled, though nonetheless shocking, snort, he handed the paper to Harry.

I believe one of the protections surrounding young Mister Potter ensures that nothing posing any danger can be delivered to him through the post. Though Mister Potter is free to indulge whatever egotistical whims his celebrity status affords him, the esteemed Headmaster of Europe's finest education establishment surely has issues of greater import to attend to.

"Well," Harry swallowed and forced a weak giggle. "Are you sure this wasn't written by Snape?"

"He's right though," Hermione said, a sausage spear left to dangle from her fork midway between her plate and mouth. "It doesn't matter who sent it, if it was dangerous in any way, at least directly, it couldn't have arrived."

"Unless it was meant to come to me," Draco huffed, "Or if Dobby brought it accidentally."

"I don't think Dobby could have done it," Ron whispered, "Crazy or not, he wouldn't have wrapped it up first. And besides, if it's here accidentally, then wouldn't your father have told you to nick it from Cupcake and send it back?"

"And if it were meant for you, Draco," Hermione continued, "Wouldn't he have encouraged you to try it out?"

"So it was definitely meant for me then," Harry grinned, "This means it won't burn my eyes out!"

"Not on it's own," Ron nodded, "But that still doesn't mean it's safe for when Viddles is writing back."

oo0O0oo

_"'Occlumency,'" _Hermione read once they had returned to their rooms, "_'Is the art of magically defending the mind against external penetration, sealing it against magical intrusion and influence, the defensive counter to Legilimency. A practitioner of Occlumency is referred to as an Occlumens.'_" She glanced up at the eager faces around her, "If we're going to learn this properly, we'll have to learn Legilimency as well, otherwise we'll never know if we're occluding successfully."

Even Draco gulped.

"It doesn't suggest anything about either Occlumency or Legilimency being a dark skill," Hermione added, "So I don't think we'll have to worry about getting into trouble, or even being discovered. In fact, I don't think anyone would even have any grounds to prevent us from learning this."

"Unless they, meaning _Dumbledore_," Harry grinned, "Was willing to admit that he wanted to peek into our minds at his leisure."

As Hermione continued to read aloud, reciting the basic procedures outlined in the book, Harry and Ron locked intent eyes and shared a nod. They still had secrets to keep from the others and would work extra hard to ensure those secrets were kept.

The more they read, the more Occlumency appeared to be a useful skill to have. The basics seemed more of a breathing exercise than anything else, a way to control one's emotions and organise one's mind.

"I bet this will help during Potions," Ron mumbled.

"What do you mean?" Hermione sat straight up. Harry took the opportunity to stick out his tongue at her, his position as number one Potions student was securely fixed.

"Well," Ron blushed, "It seems like it'll help Neville more than anyone else. If he can get his emotions under control, maybe his potions will turn out better. It's his magic that gets in the way most of the time, I reckon, 'cause he's always so nervous."

Harry nodded, "Even when he gets it right it turns out wrong."

"He is pretty powerful," Draco shrugged with a faint blush of his own.

"Jealous, Malfoy?" Ron sniggered.

"He's more powerful than _you_," Draco sneered.

"So?" Ron grinned. "So is Cupcake. Besides, there's never going to be something I can't do because my magic isn't strong enough, so what's the difference?"

"Well!" Draco started, "It's a matter of pride."

"Did _Fawhthuh _tell you that?" Harry said with a posh, haughty tone.

"I," Draco huffed, "Oh do shut up."

oo0oOo0oo

The group stayed up with the twins and Percy and rang in the New Year with mugs of hot chocolate and an array of treats. Harry had his cheeks kissed by both the twins at midnight and it was with a deep sigh and a pout that he began the breathing exercises and organising of emotions and thoughts their Occlumency work demanded before bedtime. He was glad, however, that he was still so new to the discipline, so the memory of his Weasley twin kisses crept up just enough to send him to sleep with a smile.

Soon the other students were returning and Harry and the others were eager to see the rest of their friends again. Hugs and handshakes and slaps on the back were exchanged as well as happy waves and warm greetings.

A flash of something shiny caught Harry's eye, "A new amulet, Neville?"

"It's an ID bracelet," Neville flushed to Weasley red and mumbled under his breath, "I got it for Christmas."

"Ooh it's pretty," Harry gushed and moved on to hug Vincent and Gregory.

"Hey Cupcake," Gregory smiled, but in a flash his eyes went from warm to ice, "Good afternoon, _Malfoy_," he spat out.

"What's your problem?" Draco glared back.

"No _problem_," Gregory's eyes narrowed. "I'm just busy being stabbed in the back, so I don't have time to be polite!"

"What in blazes?" Ron awed as Gregory stormed out of the common room, Vincent hurried behind him with shouts that he couldn't go out alone.

"He's just," Neville stammered fingering the bracelet at his wrist, "Well. I should go after him." He hurried to the portrait hole with Harry and Ron hot on his heels. They peeked through and found Gregory and Vincent just outside engaged in a heated debate.

Neville climbed through and Harry noticed with surprise that the ID bracelet was nowhere to be seen.

"What's going on Greg?" Ron said.

"Ask _him!_" he snapped back and stormed off again. With apologetic looks, Vincent and Neville hurried after him.

Draco and Hermione were already seated on the Second Year Boy's bed when they entered. They were accompanied by the remaining Gryffindor second year boys, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan.

"Care to explain how Gregory went from _queen_ to _drama queen_ over Christmas break?" Harry huffed and plopped down next to Dean.

Seamus leaned forward onto his elbows, "From what I heard on the train," he grinned, "Goyle wasn't very happy about the present you got Neville for Christmas."

"Me?" Draco's cheeks tinged pink.

"Out with it then, what was it?" Dean laughed, "A pair of knickers or something?"

Harry gasped, "Not the bracelet!" he threw his hands to his cheeks and squeaked in a flurry of giggles, "That ID bracelet Neville was wearing, he took it off before he went to calm Gregory down! You, you -"

"You bought him," Ron choked, "You bought him, well, _that?!"_

"What's wrong with it?" Draco snapped back.

"It's just more extravagant than we would have expected," Hermione stepped in with a pointed look to the other boys, "It's very nice."

"I think so too," Harry added with an impish grin, "Gregipoo is going to knock you a good one of course, but I think after the bruising clears up, you and Neville will make the cutest little couple."

"What?" Draco burst out, "I'm not after Neville. I just thought he would like the bracelet, is that so horrible? I can't buy something nice for my friends? Well maybe if I wasn't so lacking in ability, I would have _made_ him something!"

Their eyes tracked Draco across the room not turning back to each other until after the door slammed.

"What did _you_ get for Christmas from Malfoy?" Seamus turned to Harry.

Harry giggled, "A magazine subscription, same as Ron and Hermione. Same as Gregory and Vincent I imagine too."

"I like Neville and all, don't get me wrong," Dean twisted his lips, "But I never figured him being Malfoy's type."

"He isn't," Harry shook his head, "I don't know what Draco's up to, but it's something."

"Not very subtle," Ron snorted, "I reckon we're going to have to let him out in the dungeons more often. He'll never learn the Slytherin skill set at this rate."


	15. Aragog

**Chapter 15 - Aragog**

By the time Draco returned to the room, Seamus had adopted the nickname 'Heartthrob' for Neville, sending Gregory into a red-faced huff at each use. Draco's presence turned the tense room into an acid filled cauldron still on the fire.

Ron and Harry shared a roll of the eyes, "I'll take these two," Harry pinched Neville and Draco's robes with dainty fingers.

"And I'll deal with this lot," Ron shook his head in disgust at the task before him, muttering to himself all the while as he dragged Greg and Seamus to the window.

Harry moved his group to the bathroom entrance and stopped to raise an eyebrow at Neville. "Don't think that _I of all people_ can't see just how much you're enjoying all this fuss," he said through sly pursed lips, "Put that bracelet away and only bring it out for special occasions."

Neville lit up in a full blush, "It's just," he stammered.

"Yes, yes," Harry tossed his hair and shimmied his shoulders, "Driving Greg into jealous fits of rage is all good fun I agree, but enough already."

Neville nodded and once Harry waved him off with wiggling fingers, he returned to perch on the bed with Dean and Vincent, and wait for the others to return.

"And you," Harry turned to Draco and sighed, "Honestly, couldn't you find more deserving targets than Neville and Gregory?"

Draco glared, "You think you know everything, don't you!"

Harry twisted his lips into a smirk and glared back, "I know that there are better ways to go about what you're doing, whatever that is."

Draco took a deep breath and had the decency to pout, "It was just a bracelet," he said, "A trinket, really."

Harry let out a harrumph, "A trinket?" he threw his hands up in exasperation, "Why do you even have a head?"

He paced back to the second years' bed, huffing and shaking his head while Draco followed behind him. Gregory and the others had already returned.

Harry and Ron shared a nod after seeing that each other's charges all looked thoroughly chastised.

The two boys lingered in the bathroom after the others had finished cleaning their teeth and readying themselves for bed.

"What did you tell them?" Harry giggled.

Ron groaned and shook his fingers through his hair, sending Harry into deeper giggles, "I told Greg he should be flattered that other blokes fancy his boyfriend and to shut up about it already. And I told Seamus that it was low trying to embarrass those two, but if he wanted to use the nickname to embarrass Malfoy we'd be all for it."

The second year boys shared sheepish sleepy grins come morning, recalling their previous night's behaviours and admonishments.

When Neville tripped over his nightstand and collided into Draco, the room jolted to a tense stop.

"I'll save you Heartthrob," Seamus called, sending a small grin to Gregory's face and spots of red to Draco's cheeks.

oo00O00oo

With the return to learning hours, the students of Hogwarts were not at their alert best, though with the entire lot being a step behind, the sluggishness was hardly an issue. Nonetheless it was little surprise that in order to call the school to attention, the Headmaster had to clear his throat, not once, not twice, but three times after rising from his seat during breakfast.

"Cupcake!" Neville poked him in the side.

Harry shot up from the slump that had him inches from putting his nose in his sunny side eggs.

"Professor Dumbledore is making an announcement," he peeped.

Harry listened with rapt attention as the Headmaster told the students an abbreviated story about Hagrid's expulsion and recent exoneration, and was the first to leap to his feet to cheer the now teary man. In fact, nearly all the students clapped and cheered his success, only the most unpleasant Slytherins refrained.

Dumbledore quieted the students and continued on to notify them that since Hagrid would be brushing up on his spellcasting and advancing his skills, they should not be surprised to find him sitting in on classes sporadically during the next few years.

That night after dinner, the group convened in their usual private corner of the Gryffindor common room and began catching Gregory, Vincent, and Neville up with their beginner's Occlumency exercises.

Both Ron and Harry had been practising at every opportunity, doing their breathing exercises and clearing their minds before sleeping, upon waking, in the shower, and during both History and their pathetic Defence class, as such they were each making swift progress. Draco did as expected, while Hermione did the opposite.

The goal was to sit and think of nothing, to be empty. When a thought popped in they paused and jotted it down on a parchment, then returned to their inner realm of nothingness. They gauged their progress by the reduction of the number of interruptions.

Both Ron and Harry had whittled the number of intrusive thoughts to a tenth from where they started, Draco was down to a third, and Hermione to her mortification and annoyance was at about half, though with the length of parchment she managed to amass each session, the progress was hardly noticed.

"That's it?" Gregory frowned, "Think of nothing?"

"It's harder than it sounds," Hermione huffed, "And it's only step one. After this we need to begin categorising memories and emotions, and building barriers and defences."

"And then," Harry waggled his eyebrows, "Once we can keep people _out_ of our heads, we have to learn to let them _in_. The last stage will have us developing believable fake memories so snoops can look around _without looking around_. This way we can defend ourselves without them even knowing that we know what they were up to."

The vacationers eyes went wide.

"No way," Vincent awed.

"Instant alibi," Draco smirked.

The three boys hurried to ready themselves with parchment and quill, then followed the others example and began to breath and focus on an empty mind.

They worked in five-minute sets and when the first break came, all checked their parchments to see their results.

Harry squealed when he realised he had managed just two stray thoughts. Ron was equally pleased with his four. While Harry tended to bounce around with his progress depending on his mood, scoring a six at times but throwing a two or three in just as often, Ron's progress was more consistent and he knew that though Harry would surely manage to get through a session without interruption before he did, once Ron managed the feat, he would be able to repeat those results without fail.

Neville frowned at his parchment, having spent a shade more time writing than doing nothing.

"That's a good start, right?" Gregory asked looking at his own sparse notes. Both he and Vincent had jotted down even less than Draco, far less than Neville and Hermione.

"Actually," Hermione managed to sound smug and blush at the same time, "I had the same problem the first time I tried it. When you're not used to paying attention to these things, any number of thoughts can pop up and pass before you even realise that you're thinking them. Once you learn to catch them right away, you'll find the list gets longer before it starts to get shorter."

Vincent and Gregory shrugged at each other; they were more than accustomed to doing things wrong and didn't doubt they had missed something vital somewhere, somehow.

"Cupcake? Ron?" Vincent and Gregory held the two back as the others went to the dormitories that night.

"It's just," Gregory chewed his lip and blushed, Vincent wasn't far behind in the reddening department.

"Thanks for the Christmas presents," they blurted out.

Ron turned redder than either of them in an instant and begun to stammer out nonsensical replies while shaking a handful of fingers through his hair.

"Honestly, Ron," Harry rolled his eyes and smacked the boy's hand away, "You're both very welcome."

"It's just," Gregory started, "No one's ever given us books before, I think. I don't know if I've even got any besides your Christmas presents and my school books."

Ron and Harry had pooled their funds and bought Gregory and Vincent sets of learner's reading guides: storybooks that would help the readers with their reading comprehension while increasing their vocabulary and general knowledge as the stories progressed. Each boy had been gifted with three progressively more difficult books, different from the ones the other received so they could swap them before moving to the next level.

"But we just wanted you not to get upset or anything if they don't make much difference," Vincent said, "Don't think we're not going to use them and work hard, we already started on them, but -"

"What's wrong?" Harry pouted.

"It's just," Gregory groaned, "You got to understand they might not help anything."

"Yeah," Vincent hushed, "I mean, you can't just stop being stupid, can you?"

"Right," Gregory sighed.

"Oh stuff it, the both of you. You're not stupid!" Ron's blush turned to anger as he broke his embarrassed silence, "We don't hang around dummies and we wouldn't let Neville date one."

"That's right," Harry agreed with a finger snap.

"But," Vincent frowned, "No one ever tried to teach us stuff before we came to Hogwarts."

"Which is exactly why everything was so hard when you got here," Harry sent them both his widest eyes, "But you're learning all the Hogwarts stuff and once you catch up with what you should have been taught before you got here, everything will come easier."

"You think so?" Gregory allowed a hopeful smile.

"I know it!"

oo00O00oo

The next morning found the full group at the Slytherin table for breakfast.

Near the end of the meal, and long after the morning post arrived, a lone owl flew into the hall flying a zigzagging line and looking as though it had waged war on the Hogwarts' wards and lost. It skidded to a stop amid the group of Slytherins and Gryffindors, rolled over once, and fluttered its wings to right itself.

It waddled a full circle, peering at each them, leaned in toward Harry, looked to his right at Ron, then to his left at Vincent, before inching forward and sticking out his leg.

"That was odd," Harry let loose a nervous giggle. He reached for his wand and cast the strongest detection spell he could manage at the proffered letter.

"Looks clean enough," Ron frowned after he and the others added their own spell assortment to the note, "Assuming we're doing it right."

Harry relieved the owl of its burden and watched with stunned amazement as the owl took off like a bullet, exiting the hall in a blink.

"That owl didn't want to hang around you too long," Ron snorted.

Harry opened the envelope, "Oh!" he exclaimed, "It's from Deloise Crawberry, that woman who sent the unicorn at Christmas. Oh dear!"

He pushed the letter forward for the others to read.

_Dear Mister Potter,_

_I'm delighted that you were finally able to receive the figurine. It is perhaps not the ideal gift for a growing boy, but my daughter (now 16) picked it out for you many years ago and it has become tradition for us to send it each year._

_Death Eaters killed my husband during You-Know-Who's reign and there is nothing I can do to fully express my gratitude to you and your family (rest their souls) for stopping that monster._

_I imagine that the memories of that miraculous, yet terrible, night, are not those fit for dreams, therefore the unicorn is charmed to encourage restful sleep and protect you from night terrors._

_Thank you again,_

_Deloise Crawberry_

"You're giving that back to Cupcake," Ron narrowed his eyebrows and pointed a finger at Hermione.

"What?" Hermione yelped.

"It'll help his nightmares!"

"It's okay," Harry flapped his hands at his face to dry his tears, "I don't have nightmares so much in the big bed."

"It doesn't sound like she's anyone high up in the Ministry," Hermione frowned, "She says she's been owling every year, why would it only get through now?"

"But maybe she only just reached a rank high enough to send post this year," Vincent frowned as well.

"Well she isn't dangerous," Harry mused, "Maybe now I'm older I'm allowed to receive more mail?"

The solemn mood was broken when Neville's elbow knocked into his glass of pumpkin juice, soaking his 'saved for last as a treat for eating healthy' scone with cream right through. Neville sighed; he had been looking forward to that. A glance to the pastry basket showed that the final pickings before breakfast's end did not include one of the coveted scones.

Draco sat up straighter and shuffled an item from his plate to a small saucer. He added a dollop of cream and pushed the dish toward Neville, "Have this one," he beamed.

Gregory's eyes bulged while Hermione and Ron bit their lips to keep from laughing aloud. Vincent pressed a restraining arm to Gregory's chest while Neville nibbled the scone with a tiny smile, nervous but nonetheless pleased.

Harry squashed his hands to his cheeks and groaned.

oo00O00oo

While Harry and Ron had enjoyed every minute of the holidays spent with Draco, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasley students, they were more pleased than anyone else in their group to be back together again. With five others around to pair or split off, they were able to return to their underground enclave without drawing troublesome attention.

"Whew!" Ron exclaimed once he had righted himself at the bottom of the tunnel. He pulled on a diamond-lined glove and gave the remaining basilisk a fond pat, "Every time I'm away from this old guy, I worry he'll be gone when we come back."

Harry gave an emphatic nod, "I know," he squealed, "I keep waiting to run into Viddles down here, or find the whole thing gone and only a nasty note in it's place."

"Nasty if we're lucky," Ron snorted, "Cursed more likely."

The boys worked without non-labour related conversation until their first break.

"I, er," Ron started.

"What?" Harry worried.

"I heard Malfoy leave the dorm last night so I followed him out to the common room."

"Whatever is the matter, Ron?" Harry fretted over his uncomfortable friend.

"He had the diary and tossed it in the fire," Ron shook a hand through his hair and rubbed his neck. "Nothing happened. From the look of things, it wasn't even warm. He seemed sort of, you know, er, upset about it."

"Oh dear! What did Draco say?"

Ron flushed and squawked, "Er, I sort of sneaked back to bed after that."

"You _what?_ Why?"

"Well it's like this," Ron hurried, "He didn't know I was there in the first place, and I was going to say something but then I think he may have started crying or something awful."

"He started to _cry_ and you snuck _away?_" Harry sat with wide eyes.

"Well I don't know for sure he was crying," Ron shrugged, red-faced, "And if he was, he planned on being alone to get on with it."

Harry raised a brow and rolled his eyes.

"So, long story short, it's fire resistant and we're still stuck with it."

"Maybe we should bring it down here and douse it with basilisk blood or something?" Harry said.

"Maybe," Ron shrugged, "Or maybe, you know, since we're stuck with it a while longer, maybe we should consider writing in it, just a bit."

"Ron!" Harry gasped.

"We've tried every detection spell we've come across and haven't found any booby traps," Ron argued, "What did we learn all those spells for if we weren't going to write in it?"

"But -"

"Look I know it's stupid, but if we can get him to tell us what he did to Ginny ..." Ron trailed off.

Harry sighed and slouched into a full body pout, "I know, Ron, but it isn't like we can just out and ask him, is it?"

"We killed the basilisk," Ron countered, "And you've beaten him twice now face to face, so it's not like he's on a winning streak here. I'm not saying we're ready to try it just yet, but with a good plan, maybe we could trick him into telling us."

Harry let out a wild harrumph, "That's a big maybe, Ron, this is like trying to outsmart Snape and Dumbledore. I mean," Harry shivered, "He's a 70 year old wizard who's crossed over into death and clawed his way back, twice! And we still don't even know if _he_ knows that _we_ know that Tom Riddle is Voldemort. If he knows that we know, than we'll be candy bars at fat camp."

"Not necessarily," Ron said with a glinting eye, "Whether he knows we know or not might not matter. If he's trying to lure you to his side, saving Ginny's a good place to start earning your trust."

"And if he's just trying to kill us again?"

"Then we'll figure that out early enough to stop?" Ron said, not believing his own words.

"What we need to do," Harry thrust out his chest and giggled, "Is figure out a way to get the diary to Lockhart. If Viddles is going to kill anyone, I pick that capped-tooth winking cheap tart."

Ron snorted and doubled over, choking with laughter and agreement. The two began to ready themselves for another round of work.

"So, what you reckon about Malfoy?" Ron stopped halfway through pulling his gloves back on and corrected himself, "I mean, you know, not the crying, the whole Neville thing," he grinned.

"I'm a bit worried," Harry rolled his eyes, "If he keeps this up, Greg might actually wind up pummelling him. Seamus is already running numbers on when it happens, I've placed three sickles on two Wednesday's from now, by the way."

"I've got three on next Tuesday," Ron frowned, "A bit early, you think? Though if Malfoy weren't a _Malfoy_, I reckon Greg'd have done it already."

oo00O00oo

Between their studies, tutoring sessions, occlumency work, and reading primers, Gregory simply didn't have the time to beat Draco to a bloody pulp, which was rather a good thing really, since as days passed his inclination to do so increased exponentially. As such, a fragile state of polite, if tense, calm held fast for the next two weeks.

As puzzling and oft humorous as Draco's attentions were initially, with the effect it was having on the group at large, even Neville had begun to enjoy them less and less.

Draco proved himself worthy of Slytherin house during Potions, by skirting past everyone's notice and slithering yet again into the seat to Neville's left, securing for himself the uncoveted position as Neville's partner just seconds before Hermione could take the seat.

Gregory's eyes bulged but with a few deep breaths and the knowledge that Snape could and would enter at any moment he allowed himself to be ushered to his seat; Hermione took the spot next to him.

"Sorry Greg," she whispered as their Potions master swooped into the room, "I should have been quicker."

"S'not your fault," Greg whispered back. Both turned to their books and began copying the notes now spelled on the board.

"No, allow me," Draco's drawl trickled toward them. He left the table presumably to retrieve the day's ingredients for his and Neville's work.

Greg was seething.

"Stay here," Hermione pressed her hand to his shoulder and went to gather their ingredients as well, doing what she could to keep Gregory as far from Draco as possible.

Greg nodded and closed his eyes.

"You can't let your anger interfere with …" Hermione trailed off with a frown once she returned, seeing as Greg had already returned to calm and was ready to work. Hermione gasped, "You're using Occlumency, aren't you!" she hushed, "But I thought, I mean, how are you doing this?"

Gregory shrugged, "Just can." There was little chance to press further after that, as their full attention was needed for their hardest brew yet.

Harry caught Ron's eye as they left the classroom, after a raised eyebrow, the redhead nodded.

"Oh dear me, I've forgotten my quill," Harry announced. "I think it might take me some time to find it."

"We'll save you some lunch," Ron jumped in, "Malfoy, stay with him."

Draco raised his chin in agreement.

"You two are alone," Ron warned, "So keep your wands in your hands at all times. Er, you know what I mean," he flushed and turned back to the others.

"What?" Draco snapped once they were alone.

"You know what!" Harry snapped back. Both boys glanced around and realised that the unrestricted dungeon was not the place for any sort of discussion. Harry switched his wand to a left grip and snatched onto Draco's free hand, dragging the boy through the halls and up the stairs till they had reached Myrtle's bathroom.

"Expensive jewellery, putting aside his favourite breakfast foods, sitting next to him every chance you get, and now you're at his beck and call in Potions?" Harry started in as soon as the door was spelled shut.

"You're nice to him too," Draco said.

"Of course I am," Harry sassed, "He's my friend."

"Well he's my friend too!"

"Of course he is," Harry thrust a hand to his hip, "But he was your friend two months ago before you decided the sun rose and set with him. What are you going to do when he winds up breaking up with Greg for you?"

"What!" Draco sputtered, "That wasn't, look," he returned to glaring, "Neville has a rough time of it, doesn't he? Is it completely unbelievable that I might simply want to do something nice for somebody just because?"

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed, pleased they finally understood each other. "So out with it already. If you're not trying to break them up, then what are you doing? And don't say 'nothing,' missy, because it's obviously something and everyone knows it."

"It's none of your business."

"Fine," Harry jutted his shoulder, "I don't care what the reason is, so long as it stops!"

"You want me to stop being nice to Neville?" Draco sneered, "Oh I get it, you're just jealous, aren't you."

"So?" Harry shrugged, "You've been acting distant and mysterious for ages and now that you're finally almost normal again you have eyes only for Neville. Of course I'm a tiny bit jealous, all of us are."

Draco stood in stunned silence.

"Look," Harry continued, "It's all he can do to keep from knocking anything over, just to avoid you picking it up for him. Have you noticed how slowly he tiptoes around everywhere now? Creeping along so he doesn't trip and have you rescue him? Did you even notice how hard Neville was trying today?" Harry hissed, "He was doing everything he could to make sure there was nothing for you to help him with, and yes I'll admit this was the best potion he's ever made, and he hasn't knocked anything over in days, but if it means sending him into nervous collapse it isn't worth it!"

"I'm just," Draco started, "Can't you explain to him that I'm just being nice and he doesn't have to worry?"

"Being nice to Neville would be _wonderful_," Harry said, "But I don't think Malfoys are quite made for that, and this thing you're doing is, well, really creepy."

Draco slumped against the mirror, crestfallen

"This is really important to you," Harry frowned. "Isn't there a more, you know, Malfoyish way to be super duper sweet to him?"

"The Malfoy way," Draco snorted, "You mean throw a bunch of money at him? And if that doesn't work, maybe just kill him in his sleep and be done with it?"

Harry gasped and his worry increased, a closer look revealed Draco's watering eyes and trembling hands. He hurried forward to squash the pale and trembling boy into his tightest, warmest hug.

"I don't understand," Harry cooed into pale locks, "But it'll be alright."

Draco clung to the dark haired boy as if to a lifeline and began to shake with silent tears.

"What's happened, Draco?" Harry rubbed circles into his back.

"You can't tell anyone," Draco whispered.

Harry agreed in a hush and waited.

"The ones who hurt Neville's parents," Draco drew back and dropped his eyes to the ground, "The Lestranges. That's my mother's sister and her husband and his brother. My aunt and uncle, my family, are the reason that Neville's parents are in St. Mungo's. They went mad."

"What?" Harry gasped.

"It was the same pain curse that Viddles tried to do to Creevey, except my family got it right … do you have any idea how much pain you'd have to be in to go insane? And they weren't weaklings either, they were aurors! Good ones too. And the only fault my parents find with what happened, is that they were too sloppy to get away before the aurors arrived."

Harry stood with his mouth agape for a moment, "Oh gosh, Draco," he sighed but forced a sad half smile to his lips. With a soft touch, he tilted Draco's chin, forcing the boys to lock eyes. Draco near crumbled at the acceptance he found in Harry's emerald orbs and half collapsed into the smaller boys arms. "You should tell him," Harry whispered, "He'll understand."

"How?" Draco managed to sneer, "How could he possibly? Would you? If it was my father that killed your parents, would you understand?"

"It's _you_ who doesn't understand," Harry stomped his foot, "Dead is dead, Draco, and a Death Eater is a Death Eater. It doesn't matter who's wand it was, given the chance any other Death Eater would have done the same, it's only luck of the draw that decided who cast which curse on who. Don't you see? Your parents, Greg's parents, Vin's parents, they're as responsible as Voldemort for my parents deaths, and it may as well have been any of them who hurt Neville's mum and dad."

Draco inhaled a ragged breath, "Then how am I supposed to make it up to him? Or to you?"

Harry let out a snort, "You don't!" he rolled his eyes, "His parents are insane, my parents are dead, there's nothing you can do that's going to make that better, and you shouldn't have to!" he gave a frustrated wiggle, "I can't help my parents being dead, Neville can't help his parents being crazy, Hermione can't help hers being Muggles, and you can't help yours being Death Eaters."

"But," Draco sighed.

"But nothing," Harry stood firm, "If you want to help Neville, then be his friend the same way you always have and if it ever comes that you have to decide whether to become a Death Eater or not, make sure you choose not to, and if you have a chance, give old Bonnet Head a swift kick to his tiny little you know what while you're at it."

"If I tell Neville," Draco said after a long pause, "You'll tell the others for me."

Harry kept himself at rolling his eyes at Draco's command question, "Of course," he answered.

The two had missed lunch completely but were grateful to find that their friends had packed them some snacks to be eaten in the hallway and sneaked during their following classes.

Having resolved to tell Neville before bedtime, Draco proved to have too much on his mind to be of use during their evening Occlumency practice, and garnered his poorest results of late, but as most of the attention focused on Gregory and Vincent's now proven abilities, his distraction went unquestioned.

"How are you doing that?" Harry exclaimed once Vincent and Gregory had, within a few breaths, settled into a near trance like state.

The boys shrugged at each other, "I'm never allowed to say anything when I'm out with my parents or if people are at the house," Vincent said. "It's easier to keep from talking if you keep your head quiet too."

Gregory agreed with a firm head bob, "It's harder now than it used to be though. This Occulenese stuff will really help."

"Occlumency!" Hermione corrected in a huff, still chaffing at the full parchment before her.

"It's harder?" Neville peeped, "How come?"

Gregory blushed, "Well we've got you guys now."

At Hermione's urging, the two boys explained that when thoughts popped up, they sort of 'put them away.'

"It's like putting away your toys or laundry and stuff," Gregory added, "You've got to find the right place to put it, 'cause if it's not put right it'll pop out again. Like when you clean your room by stuffing everything in your wardrobe. Just falls down and pops the door open again."

"Yeah," Vincent grinned, "Sometimes when we go to a big event or something and I get really bored, I'll shake up all the bins in my head and put everything away differently."

"Me too!" Greg grinned as well.

"You have all your memories organised," Hermione let out a strangled squawk. "Already?"

"Well not really organised," Vincent's cheeks reddened, "Just put away in boxes and shelves and stuff."

"With labels," Gregory added.

"The both of you _are_ horribly tidy," Harry mused with thoughts to their nightstands and wardrobes, "Even your school trunks are neat."

All eyes turned to Hermione. Between the pockets full of quills and notepads, the bag stuffed with books and parchment, and the mass of materials that surrounded her during her research endeavours, none of them had any question that her place in the girls' dorm was a clean but cluttered mess, and her mind was likely no different.

"I always know where to find what I need," Hermione flushed.

"You know, Hermione," Ron squinted, considering, "I reckon it's good for you to be rubbish at some things."

"What?" Hermione shrieked at the eager, nodding faces around her.

Harry escaped the coming onslaught when Fred and George waved him over for a quidditch meeting. The black haired boy scampered out of his seat and skipped across the room, wriggling into the snug spot between the twins, on the fireside couch the quidditch team laid claim to.

To captain Oliver Wood's maniacal logic, being the defending champions put them in a perilous position. Since they were now the team to beat, the competing houses would be inspired to play their hardest against them. While having already played what was known to be their toughest match - Slytherin - he was sure that any complacence would be used against them and had endeavoured to stamp that out in the bud. As his speech progressed to a glossy-eyed rant, Harry used the distraction and took his chance to lean in to Fred's side.

"We didn't play the Puffs until the end of February last year," Harry whispered as close as he could manage into Fred's ear.

Fred suppressed a snort, "Same schedule this year," he whispered back, "But you know Oli, likes to start his rants early."

"Yep," George added, leading Harry to wonder just how close their twin connection really was that he was following the conversation. "If he starts now, he'll have finished his pep talk by game-time."

"A month from now," Fred finished.

Draco pulled Neville aside before bed. Harry didn't bother to calm Gregory, and instead dragged him and the others to the second year boys' room to explain what was going on before Seamus and Dean arrived.

Gregory was silent as was Vincent.

"Is he sure?" Hermione gasped.

"You think Malfoy would go nutters without being sure first?" Ron scoffed.

"Are you two alright?" Harry cast wide-eyed worry toward the other boys.

Gregory and Vincent shared a glance and Gregory shook his head, "Do you think our dads ever did anything like that?" his clenched fists trembled.

"Must have," Vincent whispered.

oo00O00oo

When a box filled with home-baked goods arrived from one Georgina Smythe days later, gushing with thanks and swearing to send monthly care packages, Hermione's teeth audibly began to grind.

Ron abandoned his breakfast in lieu of an assortment of fruit and nut muffins and dug in, "Tha'schtuff ferm las'dime waj awejome!"

Hermione let out a frustrated, "Humph!"

"You still have the prancing unicorn," Harry squashed back his grin, "Don't you?"

"Yes," Hermione flushed and sighed, "I don't think these people are dangerous, Harry, I just think that someone should have told you what to expect. Honestly, you go your entire life without receiving any post, you'd think someone would think to tell you when changes were coming! It's just proper."

oo00O00oo

At the end of the first week of February, Lockhart stood up at the head table.

And then Dumbledore stood and the students quieted.

To boost morale, Lockhart decided to put together an over the top Valentine's Day extravaganza. He explained to the students that during tough times such as these, he found that being reminded of how handsome he was, how loved, and how admired, had always cheered him up, and being the kind, giving, five time recipient of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile award that he was, he thought that perhaps others would enjoy this as well. To add a personal touch to Valentines exchanges, he had contacted a dwarf delivery company that would - in cupid garb - deliver cards, gifts, recite poems, and sing for a small fee.

"And please, students," Lockhart tossed his mane and waited for the light to finish glittering off his locks. "Please remember that I don't play favourites, I think of you all as my Valentine."

While most of the school was happy to distract themselves with Valentines plans, the second year Gryffindor Slytherin group had more important issues to discuss.

"Tricking him into telling us his plans is all well and good," Harry argued, "But how do you expect us to get away with it? That ugly old Yoo-Hoo is supposed to be brilliant."

"Maybe Viddles isn't actually as smart as everyone thinks," Neville frowned, "Powerful and deadly, but maybe not so bright?"

"Are you kidding?" Draco sneered.

"Neville may be onto something," Hermione said, "The Headmaster and the professors put the protections together for the Sorcerer's Stone, knowing first hand what Voldemort was capable of, didn't they? They would have made it as difficult as they thought necessary."

"And if a bunch of first years could get through it ..." Draco trailed off.

"Exactly," Hermione nodded, "Their informed opinion was that those protections would be enough to stop him."

"Or maybe the Headmaster just isn't up to scratch," Ron said.

"Er," Vincent stammered in a furious blush, "You don't think it could be something else?"

Harry's own cheeks were red as well, "You _know,_ don't you?" he turned to Vincent and gasped.

"What are you two on about?" Ron burst out.

Harry sighed and tilted his chin for Vincent to continue.

"It might have been a trap or something," Vincent cast his eyes to his lap.

Those not in the know took breaths with which to argue but paused, then groaned.

"And you knew about this?" Hermione frowned at Harry, "Did the Headmaster tell you? Why didn't you say something?"

"Oh tosh," Harry batted his hand, "I've only started thinking about it after the basilisk. The Headmaster couldn't be loopy enough to do nothing to protect the students from a rampaging monster. So even if we couldn't see what the professors were doing, doesn't mean they weren't doing _anything_. The headmaster knew we were in the hospital room that day with Justin, right? So he warned us, not direct, but we got the message just the same."

"Maybe having roosters posted at every corner would have frightened everyone," Hermione sighed and gave a slow nod, "He may have had traps for a basilisk that could go unnoticed."

"So," Ron's temper flared, "You're defending him now?"

"No," Harry nibbled his lip, "I don't know what to think of the Headmaster. But the protections on the Stone shouldn't have been breeched by a handful of first years, which means ..."

"It must have been a trap for the Dark Lord," Vincent finished. "Make sure he gets to where Dumbledore wants him and SWISH FLICK!"

"Which is the other reason I didn't say anything," Harry whispered. "If all of that was designed to catch Voldemort, then my interfering might have set him free. He's here now, with a body and everything, because I went after him."

"Don't you dare!" Ron stormed, "Voldemort was after something hidden in the school that would make him immortal and if he got it, who do you think he would have gone after first? Professor McGonagall? Bollocks! He'd come straight for you and we all knew it. As far as we knew, Dumbledore had left the school, McGonagall didn't seem interested, of course we went after him."

"Still," Harry blinked shiny eyes. "I should have known. I mean, honestly, if Dumbledore wanted to protect it, he'd have just kept it in his pocket the whole while, who could take it from him?"

"Stop it Cupcake," Ron continued to fume, "Besides, I don't buy it anyway."

"Then why else would -"

"- no, I agree that something's off about what happened," Ron nodded, "But I don't think it was just a trap for Voldemort."

"But," Draco sputtered, "That's, he wouldn't, would he? You think it was a set up for Cupcake!"

Ron shrugged but pulled Harry closer to him, hugging the smaller boy to his chest.

"I thought it was all real lucky until just now that we'd got a look at Fluffy and then the Mirror beforehand," Ron growled, "But now I'm thinking that's more luck than anyone's got a right too, even Cupcake."

"And you'd already showed'em you could stop a troll," Vincent said.

"And everybody knows Cupcake's like a phoenix on a broomstick," Neville murmured.

"And what a coincidence that Weasley's some sort of freak chess master," Draco sneered.

Ron allowed a smirk at the backsided compliment.

"And who gives an eleven year old an invisibility cloak?" Gregory added.

"But," Hermione whispered, "This is barbaric! He can't just toss Harry in front of Voldemort every time he shows up! Shouldn't he be taking this more seriously? We're kids! If he thinks a pre-teen can stop a madman, then why not just go after him and finish it himself before people get hurt? He's Dumbledore!"

"Unless," Vincent whispered and stopped. "No, that's stupid."

"What, Vin?" Harry pouted. The group hushed.

"It's just," he wrinkled his nose, "What if he can't stop him? He must have tried back when the Dark Lord was alive, er, the first time he was alive anyway. But it took Cupcake before it ended. This might be bigger than just getting Cupcake to fight the Dark Lord." Vincent took a harsh breath before he continued, "Dumbledore does things sort of sideways, right? Like the way he told us who Riddle was, he didn't actually say it, right?"

"And he never actually told us _anything_ about the Sorcerer's Stone either," Harry huddled further into Ron's chest, "But right from the start he made sure I was curious, whether it was the real Sorcerer's Stone or not, Hagrid picked up _something_ that day he took me to Gringotts. Why ever else would he have Hagrid do something so important with a student in tow?"

"Well," Hermione blushed, "He seems to like having us learn the information ourselves. He _has_ been a professor for over fifty years."

"Not to mention being half crazy," Ron snorted.

"So you think this is his way of getting us to figure out that I'm the only one that can stop him?" Harry whimpered.

"You did it when you were a baby, Cupcake," Gregory said.

"And you're a parselmouth," Draco added.

"But if I'm the only one that can stop him," Harry trembled, "Why's he keep coming after me? Shouldn't he stay as far away as possible?"

"Unless he'd rather have you on his side," Draco shrugged, "If you're far away, who knows when you'll show up ready to kill him? Keep your enemies close, and all that."

Harry snuggled in closer to Ron, "You alright, Cupcake?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head, "I don't know if I can do this!" he squealed in hysterics, "I have to stop Voldemort? I, I mean -"

"Then don't," Neville near shouted. "You stopped him last year because if you didn't he'd have come and killed you. You don't have to go out looking for trouble just because the Headmaster wants you to. He's the one that let Voldemort into the castle, twice now, let him take care of it!"

"My boyfriend's right," Gregory and Neville shared a shy grin, things were only just going back to normal since Draco's revelation, "Isn't there a way we can sort of dump the diary off on Dumbledore and ask him to keep quiet about where it came from? Cupcake could even agree to stop the Dark Lord for him, so long as a huge team of aurors and such are there to protect him, he could come in at the end of the fight and toss whatever curse they need. I mean, can't they catch him and tie him down first and then Cupcake can do him in?"

"You know," Harry brightened, "That could work! We could say that I'll refuse to help if Draco's father gets into any trouble over the diary."

All eyes turned to Draco who shrugged.

"Maybe," he whispered but started again, stronger now, "Maybe my father should take care of himself."

Ron held Vincent back once the group separated, "So Vin," he gave the back of his neck a nervous scratch, "You play any chess at all?"

oo00O00oo

"Are you sending anyone I know a special Valentine?" Hermione gave Harry a nudge as the Weasley twins sprinted past with a quick, 'hey greeneyes!' Argus Fitch lobbed in moments later calling for the 'vile monsters' to 'STOP!'.

"Valentine's Day?" Harry groaned, "Oh nooo!"

"I'd think Valentine's would be a favourite of yours," Hermione smirked.

"It would be except I've created a monster," Harry gave a dramatic shiver.

"Ron?" Hermione frowned, "He, I thought he liked, well -"

"Yes, he _still_ thinks he likes girls," Harry tittered. "I meant the other monster."

"Ah," Hermione said, "Your Creevey project is biting you in the bum?"

_"He wishes!"_ Harry harrumphed, "Honey, you have no _idea_ what it's like. He's been giving me 'pre-Valentines' for days now, and I'm going to have to start spelling our door shut before bed because this morning I woke up with a note pinned to my blanket."

"No!" Hermione burst into giggles, "Well at least you know he didn't take photos, the flash would have woken you. What did it say?"

"'Dearest Cupcake,'" Harry adopted a high breathy voice, "'I can't wait to be your Valentine.'" He gave a shake full of willies, "Now that he's Gryffindor's mini prince, he says he thinks he's 'finally worthy of me!' This isn't funny Hermione, he must have _climbed onto the bed_ to get the note there."

"Just tell Ron already," Hermione giggled, "He'll take care of it."

"I don't think that will be enough this time," Harry whined, "I'll think of something."

When Valentine's Day arrived, Harry woke up in a frenzy and refused to pull his satin mask from his eyes.

"All clear, Cupcake," Ron grinned, "No Creevey surprises."

"Oh thank goodness!" Harry let out a deep breath.

The group entered the now spectrum of pink Great Hall: the stone floors were fuchsia, the walls rose, even the sky sported a bubblegum hue. From the ceiling a storm of heart shaped confetti rained down upon them.

"I hope this is non-toxic," Harry frowned at the pink yoked, heart shaped eggs and sausage.

Vincent and Ron were soon edged over by Ron's rambunctious siblings, the twins stealing their seats at Harry's side.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Fred," Harry peeked up from under his lashes and placed a small pouch before him. He leaned to his left to sneak a kiss at Fred's cheek.

"Hang on," George growled though his eyes sparkled with mischief, "That's hardly fair!"

Harry giggled, "Happy Valentine's Day, George," he kissed his cheek and gave him a pouch as well.

Ron was stopped halfway through rolling his eyes by the arrival of two small school owls at his place.

"Happy Valentine's Day, greeneyes," the twins intoned, and in unison, planted kisses to Harry's temples; George pushed a deep square box before him.

Fred gave him a wink, "It's to help keep your prize possessions away from uninvited touches."

"We've been inventing," George grinned, "You'll see."

The twins opened their pouches and peeked inside to find a small selection of truffles.

"Hmm, strawberry!" Fred exclaimed.

"Caramel!" George awed, "How'd you know?"

Harry adopted a smug grin and jutted out a shoulder, "I pay close attention to certain things," he huffed.

"Are you dating my brothers?" Ron frowned once the twins had left.

"Not yet," Harry giggled, "But I'm working on it. And what about _you_, you dirty dog, I've never seen school owls arrive for you before."

Ron gulped and added to the Valentine's motif, with a deep red blush that exploded from the tip of his nose to well under his robes, "Er," he stuffed a pink egg into his mouth, "Su from Ravenclaw sent me a Valentine."

"Su Li? Really!" Harry grinned, "Well turn and give her a wave then, you can't just sit here doing nothing."

"Er," Ron sat up straighter and at Harry's urging, glanced around until he found the straight glossy black locks he was looking for. She had been locked on him all morning and returned his nervous wave with a beaming smile.

He slunk back into his seat but couldn't escape.

"And the other?" Harry peeped.

Ron groaned, "Tracey Davis, I don't even know who that is!"

"Our year," Harry giggled and pointed across the room, "Slytherin."

Ron sucked it up and repeated his wave. After another sausage his skin had reverted to his usual freckles, he snorted and motioned to the entranceway, "Your turn, dearest Cupcake."

Harry nodded and stood up. He took a steadying breath and reminded himself that he had gone up against the big V twice and won. He shimmied his shoulders and marched forward, enough was enough.

"Colin," he said with a firm lilt, "I think we should just be friends."

"You," Colin teared up, "You're breaking up with me?"

Harry smothered a groan and fanned his hands at his face to cool off, "I know this is a horrible day for me to do this, but I just don't think it's going to work between us."

"But, but -"

"_But _I really really like you and I'd be terribly upset if we weren't friends."

"You do?" Colin brightened, "And you would? Really?"

"Of course, you silly goose," Harry pressed a small wrapped package into the boy's hand, "It's a friendship bracelet. I made it myself."

Colin grinned.

Since outside of his immediate group, the Weasleys, and Justin Finch-Fletchley, no other Hogwarts students had received Harry's expressed permission to owl him, all the owls the students had attempted to send were returned, leaving the more persistent to utilise the Dwarf delivery service promoted by Lockhart. Each of Harry's classes were interrupted in order for the dwarves to delivery their telegrams.

"I thought everyone was supposed to be avoiding you," Ron raised a brow.

"Which is why they're using the dwarves instead of giving Harry Valentines in person," Hermione rolled her eyes during Charms, "Honestly."

"Don't be sore at me just because all of your Valentines came from ickle firsties," Ron grinned.

All eyes turned to Draco when a dwarf delivered an anonymous singing telegram to Neville during lunch, but the pale boy insisted that he wasn't responsible.

"Then why was it anonymous!" Gregory fumed.

"Maybe because you're an overprotective, jealous oaf of a boyfriend," Draco smirked.

"Oh," Gregory said with a sheepish grin, "Alright then."

Harry took extra pains with his appearance before dinner and was sitting with his handheld mirror perfecting his curls while the others worked on their homework or lounged.

"You know, Harry," Hermione adopted her Draconian drawl, "If you spent as much time on your Charms essays as you do on your hair, maybe you wouldn't have to turn in extra credit assignments."

"Hermione!" Neville gasped.

"Well Missy," Harry put his mirror aside and leaned forward, "If you spent as much time on your _hair _as you do on your _Charms essays_, maybe _you'd_ be the one getting Valentines from cute _older_ boys today."

"Cupcake!"

Hermione leapt to her feet, "Those older boys are only sending you Valentine's because they're hoping to get a little something from the Boy-Who-Lived!"

"Hermione!"

"Well," Harry stood up and planted his hands on his hips. He held back his giggles and paused, "Wait a minute, is that true? This Boy-Who-Lived crown will attract cute boys?"

"Harry," Hermione switched to lecture mode, "You can't use your fame to attract boys, that's taking advantage."

"But if they can use me for my fame, then why can't I use their using me and meet cute boys?" Harry pouted, "That seems fair."

Ron was picking through Harry's pile of cards, separating those from besot fans of the Boy-Who-Lived, and those with actual crushes on Harry, who would need a 'talking to' the next day.

"Love Oliver!" he choked, "Oliver Wood sent you a Valentine? Is this a joke?" After a thorough read through, Ron's face had purpled, only snorts of laughter managed to escape.

Harry snatched the card away in a huff only to lose it to Hermione.

"Mister Nimble!" Hermione exclaimed aghast, "Oh my gosh! Why would he call you that?"

"That's the name of Harry's Nimbus 2000!" Neville squealed.

"Yes, he gave it to me after practice last night," Harry rolled his eyes, "If you keep reading, you'll get to where he thanks Mister Nimble for making all his dreams come true. And to tell the scary truth, I'm not quite sure he's referring to last year's Quidditch Cup," Harry gave his head a disgusted shake, "If he wasn't so obviously _disturbed_ I'd be dreadfully disappointed right now. I'd accept if one of the dreamiest boys at Hogwarts wanted to date girls, but this is depraved!"

The Great Hall had been transformed from the lurid pink at breakfast and lunch to a smarmy romantic theme. Pink and red candles floated around the room sporting heart shaped flames. The confetti of the morning had been replaced with floating long stemmed roses and flower petals. And the pink flooring was now a collection of bearskin rugs.

"This is even more disgusting than before," Ron grimaced.

Ron was just biting into a heart shaped chicken leg when as one, the doors to the Great Hall slammed shut and the room went black. Splotches of glow in the dark neon yellowish green were speckled across the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw areas, and concentrated on the Gryffindor table. Slytherin appeared untouched.

Darker than the glow in the dark lit room, mammoth black shadows were speeding across the floor; shredding the Valentine's rugs and clickety clacking along the stone beneath.

Muffled screams and shouts mixed with the sounds of students jumping to their feet and shuffling around. Students were climbing onto chairs and soon moving to tables, when the shadows began slashing at the chair legs.

Harry felt a WHOOSH! to his left where the glowing form of Ron had stood, he shrieked when he found that the boy was no longer next to him.

Though only seconds had passed since the doors slammed shut, Harry felt like he had climbed atop the Gryffindor table hours ago. He had drawn his wand with glowing hands, and was just about to consider what to do when Dumbledore's booming voice echoed about the hall, bolts of white lightning flashed throughout the room. In another second, none of the shadows were moving and the lights returned.

The screaming renewed as the students saw what had entered.

Their bodies were over a metre long and the same around. With multiple eyes, eight claw like legs, dripping foot long fangs, these demonic spiders were beings from which even monsters would flee.

With a series of nimble wand flicks and dashes, Dumbledore began transfiguring the beasts into tall plain white pillars, McGonagall joined in and soon all of the dozen beasts were disguised as innocuous shapes.

The headmaster announced that 'Emergency Procedures' were to be enacted, and the Professors, Head Boy and Girl, and Prefects stepped into action.

Harry and the other students were led by the Prefects and made to partner up and form lines. The doors were spelled open, and half of the Professors left the hall to begin a search of the castle. The others divided to either stand guard, treat students who were in shock or had been injured, or to organise and calm. Of the injuries, most were simple bumps and bruises caused in the panic; by some miracle, no one had suffered more than a bleeding scratch from the beasts.

Before doing anything else, Snape marched to the Gryffindor table, glared daggers at Draco, and grabbed onto the back of Gregory and Vincent's robes, dragging them to the Slytherin area with Draco to follow behind. Harry finally spotted Ron far down the Gryffindor line. He, Hermione, and Neville hurried over to stand with him.

"What happened?" Harry flung his arms around his friend, "I couldn't find you, I was so afraid! I thought you'd been eaten!"

"Percy summoned me to him!" Ron growled in anger and embarrassment. "Like I was a book bag or something!"

Fred and George exchanged a snort, "Easy there, Ronnikins, he did the same to us," Fred grinned, but wouldn't let go of Ron's wrist. George had taken a similar vice grip to Harry's.

The Ravenclaw dormitories were the closest to the Great Hall, and as such theirs was the first House able to make use of the 'all clear' reports the Professors had begun trickling in. Led by their head of house, Professor Flitwick, they began their exodus.

Head of House, Professor Sprout, and her Hufflepuffs followed minutes afterward, the Slytherins, being all the way in the dungeons, would be last, but it was the Gryffindors that had the most dangerous trek. It did not go without notice that of the dozen spiders felled that evening, eight of them had been in pursuit of the Gryffindors.

Their journey was made in a silence broken only by gasps, deep breaths, and sobbing. Peeves the poltergeist caught up with them at the halfway mark, but even he stayed quiet and followed along guarding the Prefects at the rear.

Once everyone was safely in the commons, Professor McGonagall had the students remain standing. She instructed them to look down at themselves and if they saw that they were glowing once she turned off the lights, to raise their hands and leave them raised until the lights returned.

Harry glowed. He shone from head to toe. Hermione and the other muggleborn students in the House also stood out as beacons. The entire Weasley group did, as well as those from other pureblooded, outspokenly lightsided families. But no one shone like Harry.

"I see," McGonagall murmured when she appraised the set of raised arms before her. "Students, please repeat this exercise in your dorms, take an inventory of any and all items which may be effected and turn the list over before bed."

Every robe in Harry's wardrobe glowed from collar to hem. His hand lotion glowed, as did his lipgloss, soap, hair gel, comb.

"Bollocks," Ron shouted, "Dammit!" His robes were all peppered with glowing streaks as well, though that was all that had been tampered with. Only Seamus' things remained untouched, a fact that relieved and embarrassed him in equal measure. He lent Harry his soap so the boy could scrub whatever it was on him, off.

Dinner was taken in the common rooms, but even the heartiest eaters could do no more than pick and nibble. Nobody complained when Colin Creevey plopped himself between Ron and Harry in order to tremble and sob on Harry's shoulder.

"Hermione," Harry squeezed her wrist before bed, "Get Parvati and Lavender, the three of you will stay with us in the boys' dorm."

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed.

"Ron! Parvati and Lavender don't know as many spells as we do, and none of them have any proper detection devices, we can't leave them alone, anything could happen! And then there's Colin and the other first years, something must be done!"

"Harry's right," Harry jumped and turned to find Percy behind them, "We should have done something like this after the mud on the walls. We know whomever's responsible is able to enter and exit the dorms at will."

While Percy agreed to the principle of the plan, he was not about to allow the girls to stay in the boys' dorm. Instead, the Prefect's organised a swap between the same sex older years and younger years, so that the first and seventh year dorms were a mix of both, as were the sixth and second years, and third and fifths. Percy and Oliver switched with Seamus and Dean, as Percy didn't trust anyone else to watch over Ron, and Oliver didn't trust anyone around his star Seeker.

Harry exchanged hugs with the other younger boys before they left, "Be careful!" he teared.

"You too mate," Dean forced the worried look from his face and cracked a smile, "Wands out, right?"

As a group, the students were escorted to the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning. Once the professors took their seats, the students paused, there was a notable absence, and considering who jumped to their rescue the night before, this absence was alarming.

Professor McGonagall nodded to her colleagues and rose, the hall hushed and then buzzed once she announced that classes had been cancelled for the day, she offered no explanation as to the Headmaster's whereabouts.

Harry and the others caught eyes with Hagrid who nodded.

They trouped after the large man as soon as he rose from the head table. Hagrid said that his hut was too close to the forest and thus too dangerous for them, and led them instead to an unused classroom.

"What's going on, Hagrid?" Harry didn't even wait to sit down.

"Sit, little ones," Hagrid fretted and motioned to the scattered chairs. "This's impor'unt."

Harry and the others quieted and perched in wait, ramrod straight and nervous.

After a deep breath Hagrid began, "The creatures from las' night," he intoned, "They're whut Riddle said killed Myrtle all them years ago. I 'ah been raisin' one in the castle then, and Riddle foun'dout an' used that to frame me fer the trouble." He raised an enormous hand to stall their questions and continued, "There's a large group of'em in the forest now, their leader's always been loyal teh me, never let the group travel far out of their area in the forest, not one has ever come near the border even. Until las' night, there weren't an acromantula aside from Aragog that's even seen the castle. How Riddle got'em inside I don't know."

"But why would they turn against you now, Hagrid," Harry hushed, "After all this time?"

"Aragog," Hagrid's eyes turned livid, "Aragog never betrayed me. I went to the forest las' night to see what'appened. He's been killed. The acromantulas are scramblin' fer leadership. Don' know what's goin' teh happen with them now. It's lucky the ones who entered the castle were killed by Dumbledore, knowing tha'll make the others think twice about leaving the forest'again."

"Where is the Headmaster anyway?" Ron said.

"A bunch from the Ministry and some Board of Governor's arrived early today," Hagrid growled, "Been up there all mornin'."

"Was my father with them?" Draco paled.

Hagrid didn't answer aloud but his grimace was enough.

"That can't be good," Gregory frowned.

"So he was trying to set Hagrid up again?" Ron squinted and frowned as Hagrid walked them through the castle toward Gryffindor tower. He would drop the Gryffindors there and continue on to leave the Slytherins in their dungeon abode. "You think he's angry that he was cleared?"

"Why would he bother?" Greg frowned. All eyes turned to Draco.

"I'm not the resident expert on the workings of madmen!" he sneered.

Harry raised a brow at Ron who nodded back.

"What about your father, then?" Ron said. "If it were him and not Riddle, why would he have done this?"

Draco flushed but shrugged, "Pride, maybe. There's nothing worse than getting caught. But there would be other reasons too. Indulging in pride is a luxury, if you're going to act on it, it should serve as many purposes as possible."

"Then going after Hagrid again is just a bonus," Harry mused, "So what's the real goal?"

"Killing you?" Draco sneered, "Or were you not lit up like a Christmas tree last night?"

With worried faces, the Gryffindor and Slytherin friends caught eyes across the Great Hall at the beginning of dinner. By Snape's decree, none of his Slytherins were to fraternise with the troublesome Gryffindors without an adult escort. As there were no actual adults seated at the house tables, the welcome each group had shown toward the other was now useless.

Headmaster Dumbledore was still absent. The already subdued hall quieted in a flash when Professor McGonagall rose, "Due to the ongoing events of the year," she announced with a stern voice and thin lips, "Headmaster Dumbledore has been temporarily suspended by the Board of Governors. I will be the acting Headmistress until his return."

The Great Hall alit with a terrified electric buzz. Harry perched on his seat to look across the room at Draco and the Slytherins. They were ashen and worried.

"Can we still send it to him," Neville trembled, "Even though he's not in the castle?

"We could," Ron glared, "But Viddles is here and Dumbledore's not. And the only chance I can think of to stay a step ahead of him is the diary. Getting rid of it now might not be a great idea."

Harry steeled his face, "I guess it's up to us again."


	16. The Chamber of Secrets

**Chapter 16 - The Chamber of Secrets**

McGonagall's announcement was well timed, as the evening post swooped in moments later, distracting the stunned students from their sinking stomachs. Due to recent events, the normally sparse lunch and dinner deliveries now rivalled the breakfast congestion.

Even with the opportune arrival of owls, the striking news of Dumbledore's dismissal led to a second dinner in which most were too upset to eat a proper meal. The students nibbled and pushed forkfuls of mashed potatoes around their plates.

"What's that?" Ron pushed his pork chop toward the paper in Harry's hands.

"Note from Justin," Harry whispered back.

Ron groaned, "Are you two _still_ doing that?"

The two glanced over to the boy in question. Justin darted eyes to his left and right before flashing a nervous wave.

"Oh, honestly," Ron snorted, "What's the point sending secret notes if he's going to be even less subtle than Malfoy?"

It was a subdued group that trudged along behind the seventh year prefects to Gryffindor tower.

"We'll have to get the diary back from Malfoy," Ron whispered as they walked.

"They won't let you," Neville piped up, "Greg already told me that if we wind up using it, he won't let anyone write in it but him."

"What?" Hermione choked down her screech, "That's insane!"

"He says -" the group paused a breath and half step as the prefects glanced their way, "He says," Neville continued further under his breath, "That he and Vin are the best Ocumelsens -"

"Occlu -" Hermione oofed as Harry elbowed her side mid correction.

"So if Viddles tries to take over anyone's mind they'd be able to not go crazy longer than the rest of us. And since Vin's already been in the hospital wing this year … well."

"That's madness!" Harry hushed.

"I know," Neville nodded with a proud grin.

The group holed up in their usual corner in the common room and shared a shiver as they adjusted to the empty spaces.

"They'll be alright down there," Neville whimpered, "Won't they?"

"Safer in the dungeons then we are here I reckon," Ron nodded with a worried frown.

"So long as they don't do anything stupid and use the diary without talking to us first," Hermione huffed.

The boys sat up straighter with worry.

"They wouldn't," Neville worried, "Would they?"

"With Draco feeling so guilty and Greg going all Occlumency warrior on us …" Harry trembled.

"Let's not worry about that," Hermione hurried, "We can't do anything about it right now and I'm sure they wouldn't rush into anything."

"So," Ron hemmed and hawed, "Er, what did my brothers end up giving you for Valentine's Day anyway? I know they seem to sort of, you know, _like you_, or something but I still wouldn't trust it if I were you."

Harry's face brightened with gratitude at the change in subject, "The twins are brilliant!" he squealed, "They made password locked broomstick polish for Mr. Nimble, so no one can touch him without getting a shock when the password's on."

"That'll keep Wood's hands to himself," Ron snorted.

"That's the plan," Harry grinned, "I bet he'll look super sweet with his hair all electrocutie."

"Er," Hermione started, eyes turned her way, "Nothing, forget it."

"_Hermione,_" Harry whined.

"It's just," she reddened, "Well, Oliver shrunk it so it's hard to find on the notice board, but…"

"Hermione!" Ron barked, "Spit it out!"

"Quidditch is cancelled," she finished and paused to allow Ron to gasp and sputter with horror. "Practices, games. The season is cancelled until further notice. The quidditch pitch is completely off limits."

"Well," Neville cast a nervous glance to Ron, "It's probably for the best," he hurried on before Ron could argue, "It's too dangerous right now, especially for Cupcake."

Ron settled down with a grimace and sigh.

"At least Oliver is probably more depressed than we are. That comforts me somehow," Harry forced a giggle and gave his shoulders a naughty shimmy, "I should bring Mr. Nimble to bed with us, that might ease his suffering."

An involuntary bark of laughter escaped Hermione, "How will being electrocuted help him?"

"Oh," Harry giggled effortlessly this time, "Right. Well I could wait until afterward to put the polish on. But I figure, if I go to bed with Mr. Nimble next to me, I might wake up in the morning with an armful of Oliver. Or even better, Oliver might have an armful of me."

"Harry!" Hermione gasped.

"Leave your broomstick in the shed," Ron smirked, "I for one don't want to go to the loo in the middle of the night and find Oli and Mr. Nimble in there."

Harry's eyes went unfocused and his mouth watered, "Doing unnatural things ..." he trailed off.

"Harry!"

"Well he _is_ protecting us you know," Harry grinned, "Nothing says thank you like a willing broomstick."

"_Harry!"_

"You know, Perce and Oli are probably in more danger than anyone," Ron worried, "Guarding _our_ room, if Viddles comes to get us ..."

"Well you know what you have to do then," Hermione frowned at the now groaning redhead.

The seventh year boys in the second year dorm took turns keeping watch in the night, trading off after four hours.

The second year boys nodded to each other and Harry rushed to his trunk while Ron and Neville ushered the older boys together.

"You have to promise not to say anything," Ron glared at his older brother, "To _anyone._"

"That means any professor, any parent, all your friends," Harry wiggled his shoulders from across the room and planted cloth filled hands on hips.

"It's nothing dangerous," Neville hurried, "But it has to be kept a secret no matter what."

"What have you landed yourselves in now?" Percy groaned.

"Oh that's nice," Ron reddened, "We're not always in trouble you know."

"In fact the secret is about keeping us _out_ of trouble," Harry pouted, "Keeping us safe."

The older boys rolled eyes at each other and nodded, "Oh fine," Percy frowned, "So long as this isn't putting anyone in danger, we promise."

With nods and shrugs from Neville and Ron, Harry shook out his cloak and draped it over himself. The gasps and curses uttered by the older boys told him that it was, indeed, still in ship shape.

"We want you to wear it while you're keeping watch," Harry's voice rang out from no where.

"And this too," with a sigh, Ron pulled the Band-It from his wrist. "These are part of the protections Harry has to use to keep safe, Boy-Who-Lived and all that," Ron and the other younger years fought to keep a straight face at the bold half-truths. "So you see why you can't mention it to anyone. They'd be useless if people knew."

"Where did you get these?" Oliver managed to squeak out.

"My parents left them for me," Harry said quickly. "You know, just in case. And _no,_ Oliver," Harry rolled his eyes, "I can't use the cloak to sneak off for Quidditch practice."

With a last muttered curse, Oliver flopped down on the bed.

Percy sat down hard at the makeshift desk they had fashioned for the night watch and with astonishment, found himself disappearing as Ron settled the cloak around him.

"Do you need anything, Percy?" Harry peeped, "I find warm marshmallows with peanut butter and chocolate helps calm me down after a shock. We have some here, you could use your wand to heat them up?"

"Or maybe just some water?" Ron snorted.

They heard Percy shake his head beneath the cloak before sending them off to bed.

Harry was just bites into his peanut-butter and bananas on toast the next morning when a group of older Ravenclaws stopped behind Hermione and Neville, across from Harry and Ron at the Gryffindor table.

After a shared look, the darkest haired of the bunch gave Harry a hard stare, "The school is under attack and you're in the middle of it. We want to know what's going on."

Harry frowned at the boy's sour face, they could have at least picked the cute one to be their spokesman, "Why don't you ask your head of house?" he said, "He'd know more than I do."

"No," the Ravenclaw shook his head, "It's the Gryffindor's that were being attacked, you specifically if what we've heard is right. And weren't you involved in something last year as well? How do we know it isn't you that's attracting all the trouble? Some of us want to concentrate on our OWLs and NEWTs without distraction. If you're going to cause trouble year after year -"

"Cause trouble?" Ron stood up from the table and yelled. "You sodden git! He isn't causing any of this, if it weren't for Harry, you'd all be hiding under your beds right now."

The twins edged over then to glare and look menacing on Ron and Harry's behalf. Both crossed their beater-blessed biceps across their chests.

"Everything alright here?" George frowned.

"They're accusing Cupcake of causing the attacks!" Ron burst out.

A number of other Gryffindors stood up at Ron's pronouncement, Percy, Oliver, Hermione, and Neville included.

"This is my seventh year," the cuter Ravenclaw stood his ground against the glaring students, "And there had never been any problems until _he_ showed up. Jinxed brooms, corridors we had walked for years suddenly forbidden, dead Defense professors, Petrified students, dead cats, crazed Bludgers, mud on walls, and now acromantula attacks? Boy-Who-Lived or not, the kid's a menace!"

There was a livid pause, but before any of the other Gryffindors could respond, Neville growled and delivered a fierce kick to the offending seventh year's left shin.

"Harry isn't a menace, he's a hero!" Neville snapped.

"Neville's right," Hermione thrust out her chin with a smug harrumph, "Almost everything that's happened would have happened whether Harry was here or not!"

The sour-faced Ravenclaw glanced around and found the rest of the Great Hall staring at them with eager curiosity. "Then tell us all," he sneered, "If Potter's such a _hero_, how did Professor Quirrell wind up dead?"

The young Gryffindor's shared a panicked but resolved glance.

Ron tilted his chin in a nod, "Professer Quirrell was a Death Eater spy who was possessed by an evil spirit he was trying to get a new body for. When Harry stopped him the spirit left Quirrell's body and that's what killed him."

"You can't be serious," the Ravenclaws scoffed.

"Ask your head of house if you don't believe us, and be sure he tells you just _whose spirit_ it was Quirrell was trying to resurrect!" Ron fumed.

"Whose?" the Ravenclaws jeered and many other students shouted out as well.

"Voldemort!" Neville burst out.

There was a heartbeat of silence and then uproar at Neville's pronouncement, leading interim Headmistress McGonagall to address and quiet the room, and then usher the second year Gryffindors to their classes early.

"Well that's nice!" Ron grumbled as they hurried to keep up with McGonagall's strides. "Between last night and today it'll be a miracle if I don't fall faint with hunger!"

Classes that day all began with insistent questions from the students, and responses from the professors ranging from reluctant but honest to frightfully unhelpful. The latter resulting in a brutal removal of 50 points from the eager for knowledge fourth year Ravenclaw that couldn't hold back her questions during Potions.

Everybody wanted to know what had truly happened with Quirrell. And everybody was horrified at the answer.

"Hey," Harry gave a little skip as they were ushered to lunch, "I'm not so stinky anymore."

"What?" Ron coughed.

"People don't seem to be avoiding me so much like before," Harry grinned, "All it took was an acromantula attack."

"Actually," Hermione rolled her eyes, "They probably know all about how you fought off Voldemort last year by now. _That's why_ they're not avoiding you."

"Oh," Harry peeped. He gave a quick wink as another student gave him a wary nod when they passed by.

"Don't get too smug," she smirked and twitched a brow at the next march of students.

Many of them looked even warier than before and two let out full gasps upon seeing him and scampered away, losing points and gaining detention from the professor escorting them as they ran.

"Well," Harry had the grace to blush, "I guess it might depend on which professor tells the story."

"Between you killing off professors and having Voldie out for revenge," Ron patted him on the shoulder with a grin, "You can't blame them for running away. At least now that word is out, maybe Lockhart will be avoiding you too."

And he did. Lockhart had never fully recovered from the indignancy of the duelling club poster incident, and now that he had finally become curious about the departure of the man previously stationed at his post, Harry dropped significant degrees on his rub shoulders list. In fact, he avoided Harry altogether whenever possible, resulting in a distinct alteration in his teaching style. His usually dreaded, though lively, re-enactments were now replaced with assigned reading during which he left the classroom unattended and reassured himself by preening before a mirror in his office.

"So much for the professors protecting us," Seamus snorted once Lockhart had squirreled himself away.

"Honestly, Seamus," Harry rolled his eyes, "We're safer with him locked in his office anyway." The other Gryffindor's couldn't help but agree, even Lavender and Parvati.

The Slytherin contingent of the group arrived to dinner as calm and unruffled as ever, but a quick locking of eyes and a sneering half frown, twitch of the lips from Draco to Harry told the underlying story.

"Oh doodles," Harry let out a long breath, "They're in trouble now."

"What's up, Cupcake?" Ron worried.

"Draco and Vincent and Gregory!" Harry fluttered his little hands about, "Now that everyone knows what happened last year, they're going to get into trouble for not telling their parents about Voldemort! They went out of their way to keep it a secret and now the secret's out and they'll be caught."

"Bollocks," Ron groaned, "I didn't mean -"

"Of course not," Hermione cut him off, "And I don't see how we had any other choice. This just means we need to come up with a story for them to tell their parents."

"They should send owls right away," Neville added, "With more details than the other Slytherins will have."

"Exactly," Hermione nodded, "They can say something about how they didn't know what had really happened, just that Quirrell was attacking Harry."

"And they can say that Harry had told them about Voldemort, but they didn't really believe him because Cupcake is always making stories," Ron winked at his friend.

"I do not!" Harry giggled.

"And besides," Hermione grinned, "Everyone knows an eleven year old couldn't possibly _defeat the great and all powerful Dark Lord_."

Harry caught Draco's eye again and gave the boy a smile and wink, the Slytherin's nodded back with near imperceptible relief.

Harry turned to grin at and gobble up his cauliflower with cheese sauce while Hermione began penning their plan and the extra details for the Slytherins to include in their owls home.

"Harry,"

Harry looked up from his plate and was pleased to find Justin Finch-Fletchley peering down at him. While the Slytherin's official ban against unnecessary interaction with the Gryffindors had just begun, the Hufflepuff's unofficial ban against the same had just been lifted.

"What's wrong?" Harry's grin switched to a pout as he noticed the pinched look on his friend's face.

"I just wanted you to know," Justin said, "That there is a petition going around, I can't say no one in Hufflepuff signed it, because some did, but not a lot. Most of the names are from Slytherin and Ravenclaw as far as I could tell."

"What are you talking about?" Ron glared.

Harry went from pouting to downright downtrodden, "They're trying to kick me out, aren't they?"

Justin nodded, "They won't get enough signatures to do more than make a bother I reckon, but I thought you should know about it."

Harry welled up but he managed to nod in response.

Ron leaned over and grabbed a fist-full of Justin's robes, "You are going to write down every single name on that list and give it to me. You got that?" he near hissed.

Justin's eyes widened but he stood his ground, "I won't tell you which Hufflepuffs signed," he gulped.

"Fine."

The second years and the other students around them watched Justin leave the table and sat in silence, waiting to see Harry's reaction. It was however, Neville that broke the silence.

"How could they!" he wailed.

It wasn't difficult to piece together, despite the, or perhaps, because of the events of the previous year, many students had taken their former wariness of being associated with the Boy-Who-Lived a step further, convinced that Voldemort or some incarnation thereof was dead-set on Harry's downfall and willing to kill everyone in his path. They were certain that Harry's presence at Hogwarts was a danger to everyone and if Harry simply left, they would all be safer.

"Ignore it for now, Cupcake," Ron scoffed, "Finch-Fletchley will get us that list and we'll make sure every single one of them gets what's coming to them."

"Ron," Harry licked a tear from the corner of his mouth, "It's just, they might not be completely wrong."

Oliver Wood reached passed three younger students to clap him on the back, "Maybe not _completely_," he shrugged, "But they're not right either. Anyway, I wanted to mention something to you." The Quidditch captain glanced up at the head table and bobbed his head back down when he found himself caught in one of McGonagall's fiercer glares, "If you plan on going out to play hero again," he whispered, "See if you can get to it before it's too late to finish the Quidditch season. I've done the calculations, and if we start play by mid March at the latest, there'll still be time for the all the remaining games. That means we'll get to defend the cup!"

Harry and his friends gaped at the older boy.

"That gives you almost an entire month," Oliver wiped his mouth with his napkin and began to check his book-bag as the other sixth years prepared for a group library excursion. "Careful though, no point saving the season if we lose our seeker."

"He doesn't really," Harry squirreled his face, "I mean, he can't honestly ..."

"Well," Hermione trailed off with a shrug, "It's Oliver, what do you expect?"

While some students thought their safety would be guaranteed with Harry's removal, many others realised that simply have roots in the Light or in opposition to Voldemort would incite the same enmity whether Harry was present or not.

Indeed, Hogwarts was now divided into four distinct camps: those that felt Harry's presence endangered them and wished to see him removed; those that felt they were in no danger and wished to see him removed regardless; those that felt they were in danger but had no push or pull toward the Potter situation; and those that felt they were in danger and were content with the thought that Harry would soon deal with things.

It was this latter group that caused Harry the most irritation. For the most part, these students had no familial ties in either direction Light or Dark. Like most wizarding children, they had been raised on tales of the Boy-Who-Lived, but unlike those with Light or Dark roots, they had little firsthand knowledge of the rest of the battles, the aurors, the Ministry workers, the individuals who rose against the Dark, the individuals who rallied against the Light. For them, Harry was simply a legend, and with Dumbledore gone, they began to look from their missing saviour to one that was present. They were of course, the majority.

Harry was subject to many an "Alright, Potter?" as he made his way through the halls.

"The glares I can deal with," Harry shivered and then waggled his eyebrows toward another frightened but hopeful face flashing a smile, "It's _these ones_ that give me the willies, and _those ones,_" Harry waggled in the direction of a passing student who was giving him not the 'you're putting me in danger' glare, but the annoyed, fraught with disappointment 'what are you waiting for, save us already!' gawp.

"Ignore them, Harry," Hermione said and then in a loud voice, "Only a moron would expect a twelve year old boy to save them!" A number of dark glares were cast her way at that.

"Well you know that," Harry agreed, "And I know that. But _they_ don't know that! They all keep looking at me like I'm eating starved orphaned babies or something!"

Dean wandered to Harry and the others' usual corner looking lost and frightened, "Seamus is gone."

"What!" Harry shrieked, "Find Professor McGonagall."

"No," Dean sighed and sunk down to sit next to Hermione on the floor, "His parents pulled him out of Hogwarts. Left after dinner. I don't know if they'll let him back."

"But," Harry sputtered, "Well I guess I don't have to ask why."

"I bet he won't be the only one either," Dean added. He turned to Hermione, "You're staying, right?"

Hermione nodded.

"Me too," Dean nodded, "I haven't mentioned anything that's happened to my parents. They don't get the wizard news so they have no reason to pull me out and I'm not going to giv'em one."

"Same here," Hermione said.

"Sea's mum keeps up with the wizarding world though, and she thinks it's dangerous being around Harry, 'specially with Sea being half'n'half. Muggleborns first but halfbloods might not be far behind."

"I wouldn't be surprised if no muggleborn students left," Hermione said, "I bet none of us have told our parents anything about what's happening."

"Except Creevey," Ron rolled his eyes, "That kid tells his dad everything, and with pictures!"

"You know, I bet he even took pictures of himself in the hospital wing, that time," Neville added in a hushed giggle.

"He did!" Harry giggled but the group sobered moments later, "Isn't it awful that the students most in danger are the ones that will end up sticking it out here."

"It's the only way we can learn magic," Hermione explained, "Seamus' mother can teach him if he's not at school, but the muggleborns?"

"It's just like during the war," Neville whispered, "My gran tells me stories. When things started looking rough, there were lots of families that moved out of the United Kingdom, they came back after Harry became the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Running like cowards!" Ron stormed. "Let everyone else do the dirty work and then come back when it's safe again!"

"I wish my parents had run," Neville whimpered.

"Mine _did _run, just not soon enough and not far enough," Harry added. "Fighting might stop the bad guy, but running is more likely to keep you and your family alive."

Ron reddened and slumped in his seat, "It's not fair," he said, "Your parents went into hiding because they were being targeted, and they were being targeted because they were fighting. Those others are safe just by staying out of it. And they're only safe because of all the other people who have to be in danger."

"But if some people didn't stay out of it," Hermione said, "Who would be left to live in the world the heroes fought and died for?"

"But maybe if everybody fought," Ron countered, "There wouldn't be so many dead heroes in the first place. The people who run want the same things the people who stay and fight want, don't they? That means there should be more of us, a lot more, than there are of them. Except half of our numbers run or stay out of it which makes it all that much harder for the people left to fight. That's the problem isn't it? The bad guys are braver than we are."

"It's not bravery," Neville whispered, "They're just safer. The Light doesn't target families or threaten their children. The bad guys know that what they'll do to us is way worse than what we'd do to them, so they don't have to worry much, do they? Still, some people die so that other people can run and hide. It's doesn't seem right."

"I, er, you guys mind if I come back here? I mean, I could keep staying with the other Sixth years -"

"No!" Harry yelped, "You'll stay with us. It's more dangerous, but it's safer too."

By dinner's end the next evening, a handful of holes could be seen scattered throughout the Great Hall. Harry was sure that more would be seen the following morning. Hermione and Dean's prediction was right, none of those who left were muggleborn.

Harry looked up at the nudge Hermione had delivered. Colin was weaving through the common room, hair gelled in its now habitual mousey brown version of Harry's 'Angelic' coif.

"Hi Harry," he squealed as he neared them giving an enthusiastic wave so the friendship bracelet Harry gave him could not be missed. If one paid attention one would note that Colin only waved, or raised his hand during class with the hand wearing Harry's friendship bracelet. He plopped down next to Ron on the arm of the couch.

"I just want you to know," Colin gave a wobbly grin, "I'm not going to leave Hogwarts. My father thinks I should come home and go to normal school but I begged him to let me stay."

Harry groaned, "Are you sure Colin?" he worried, "You've been attacked once already and it could happen again."

Colin shrugged and trembled but straightened his shoulders and sat tall in moments, "If I leave now my dad'll never let me come back," he shook his head, "That means my brother Dennis won't get to come either, he's a wizard too I'm pretty sure."

Ron gave the boy a hefty clap on the back, "Good on you."

Harry sighed, "You're a true Gryffindor, Colin, but be careful!"

oo00O00oo

Saturday morning dawned crisp and overcast, the grey cloaked sky viewed from the Great Hall a perfect mirror for the mood of the staff and students. Owls were awaited with both dread and anticipation, and return notes were sent immediately, assuring family and now home-schooled friends of their safety and wellbeing.

"I can't believe how excited I am to be going to the library," Ron moaned.

"We'll finally get to see everyone again, the library counts as supervised!" Harry squealed. Neville too was unable to stop wiggling over the chance to see his boyfriend out from under the glaring eyes of the Slytherin head of house.

"We have work to do as well," Hermione reminded the group. She relented at the heated glares turned her way, "Oh fine, but we still have to find books to check out."

"Come on, Hermione," Ron said, "It'll be nice being able to just talk properly and not have to send owl after stupid owl."

"You're just sore because Draco's owl pooped on your robes," Hermione smirked, "Twice."

"I keep telling you it was an accident!" Harry giggled.

"I don't see the snobby owl pooping on _your_ robes," Ron reddened at the memory, "Honestly, even _Errol _manages to hold it till he's back outside or in the owlery!"

The Slytherins and Ravenclaws were already seated when the Gryffindors arrived; Draco, Vincent, and Gregory had their table saved and waiting.

Long minutes were spent exchanging relieved hugs and greetings, and just settling in giddy and grinning around the table. Finally each raised their wand to cast one of the security and privacy spells they had learned during their journal defence research.

"We've been so worried!" Harry let out a low squeal, so as not to test the limits of their privacy charms.

"You've been worried?" Draco sneered, "_We're _the ones that were worried! You don't really think Viddles would go after a Malfoy!"

"Are you all okay?" Vincent asked, "Is it safer now?"

Hermione nodded, "They have the older years paired up with the younger years, so they keep watch in the night for intruders and such."

In a low whisper Harry added, "We're having our guards wear the invisibility cloak and Ron's Band-It band."

"That's just my brother, Percy, and Oliver Wood," Ron explained, "Oh and Dean knows about the cloak now too but he won't say anything. Seamus will hear about it too if he comes back I guess."

"Comes back?" Draco worried under a sneer, "You mean even the brave and noble Gryffindors are running?"

"Stuff it, Malfoy," Ron glared.

"It's not good, Ron," Gregory said, "If too many students leave they might really kick Cupcake out to bring them back."

"Not to mention," Draco's voice went cold, "Half the people who want Cupcake out think it's his job to save the day, they have no right to leave. I hope their parents know better than to send them back afterward. It isn't as though those parents have volunteered to help defend the school or root out the danger in the meantime. No, they're going to sit back, wait for someone else to take care of things, and then send their little cowardly runts back when things are safe again, complaining all the while about how long it took and how no where is safe anymore."

The other Slytherins gave dark nods in agreement.

"But -" Hermione started.

"But nothing," Draco glared, "If they want Hogwarts to be safe for their kids, then they had better be prepared to do something about it, or not be a part of Hogwarts at all. This is just the start of it, Hermione." He glanced around the room and lowered his voice even further, just in case, "The Dark Lord has a body now, this isn't going to stay at Hogwarts, he'll recall his Death Eaters and it'll be war again. People can't just leave. Don't you know that the Death Eaters nearly won? If Cupcake hadn't done whatever he did, we'd all be sitting here under the Dark Lord's banner, except for you, because you'd have been killed in the crib as soon as your magic was detected."

"They came close," Vincent nodded, "Because people were afraid and instead of fighting them, they ran or refused to fight, thinking if they didn't fight then the Dark Lord might spare them. There can't have been _that many_ Death Eaters, but they nearly took over a country. And it's starting again and nobody learned anything from the last time."

"Dad says there's almost nothing the Dark Lord hated more," Gregory hushed, "Than the dark families that stayed out of it. They wanted the same things _he_ wanted but were too afraid of losing to help them win."

"I suppose you Light families are more forgiving," Draco let out a thick breath, "But you shouldn't forgive anyone who leaves you for dead."

"Do you really think this will come to war?" Hermione asked.

"How can it not?" Draco shrugged.

"He's right," Harry shivered, "Voldemort used to be after Britain, why would he be satisfied just tormenting students now? He's only here because he doesn't have his full power back. I figure there must be something here that can give it to him."

"And the rest is just a distraction or something?" Vincent said.

"Whatever it is," Ron worried, "It's coming soon. He got Dumbledore out of the way, didn't he? He'll do whatever he's going to while everything's still a mess."

Discussion turned to the diary and what to do with it. They were still unsure as to just what could be gained and how but the Gryffindors were able to extract a promise from the Slytherins not to use it without, at the very least, telling them first. When it was time to leave the library, there's was the most sombre group.

Harry awoke hours before sunrise Sunday morning with a choked gasp, only his lack of breath kept him from crying out. He clutched at his wrist, he felt as if his arm had been set on fire.

"Ron," Harry gave his friend a frantic shake. "Oliver!" he called, looking toward the light at the guardian's desk.

"I know, Harry," Oliver's voice trembled, "Get Percy up!"

Harry could only assume that Oliver was readying himself for whatever was to come. He grabbed his wand from under his pillow and reached over Ron's slow waking form to poke and prod at Percy.

Percy sat straight up, wand in hand, "Ron!" he hushed, looking left and right.

"M'fine," Ron yawned but didn't have a chance to do more as Percy began hauling him and a still sleeping Neville up by their pyjama tops.

"Get to far side of the room," Percy hurried, "Hide beside the bed and keep your wands ready, if you have a chance to use a spell, do it."

Harry and Dean followed behind and the four boys huddled together and watched Percy sprint to the desk and sit down in a slump with his head on Oliver's books.

The door eased open without a sound mere seconds later. A dark figure glanced around the room and settled on Percy's form.

"Tsk, tsk," the figure sneered softly, "Asleep at the job." He raised his wand.

"STUPEFY!" a red bolt zoomed across the room as if from no where. Percy leaped to his feet and started sending curses of his own.

The figure was back out the door in a flash, Oliver and Percy chasing after him.

The common room was empty, he was already gone.

Percy bobbed his head back into the room, "Bring your blankets and pillows to the common room, we're going to check on the other dorms."

The boys loaded their arms in a flurry and zipped outside, frantic for news of Hermione. Within moments the room began to fill, the entering students were sleepy and confused but each wore a look of dread.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry worried but waited as none of the other Gryffindor Second year girls had been spotted yet. He did see a couple of the first year boys. "And where's Colin?" he trembled.

Professor McGonagall swept through the common room with Oliver following behind her. She didn't pause and went straight up to the nearest dorm.

Percy returned ashen-faced and organised the students to their year groups. There were sizable gaps.

"The muggleborns are missing," Dean spoke first.

"Not just muggleborns," Neville trembled, "There are some older purebloods missing too, not just Light-kids either."

"Our guardians," Lavender was in tears, "She was slumped over when Percy came in! I don't know if she'll wake up, and Hermione is gone!"

The boys gasped, hearing their fears spoken aloud. Harry's eyes had welled up and spilled over but were nonetheless glinting with steel. Even snuggling into Ron's arms he looked about ready to hunt down Viddles and anyone in the way be damned.

A round of cheers went up when the first of the guardians came down the steps, looking ruffled and downtrodden but otherwise unharmed.

Any and all of their misgivings about letting Percy and Oliver in on their secret cloak and illegal devices disappeared, there was no question that it was what saved them.

They gathered around their head of house and recalled their stories, all were similar: the door opened and a dark figure entered, those that were able, sent spells that seemed to go right through the dark form and then they were hit with stunning spells or rendered otherwise immobile. The first year girls night watch had something further to add.

"I had fallen but wasn't stunned," she said, "He cast a sleeping charm on the girls who were waking up and then he, well," she paused and shook her head, "He had this book with him and he climbed _into_ it, somehow, and pulled the girls right behind him. He has them trapped in a book! Then he climbed back out and left the room."

Harry would have fallen over had he not been already sitting. The diary!

Percy and Oliver both were sure the portrait hadn't opened when they gave chase which was confirmed by the fat lady. Unless he had managed to sneak out behind Oliver when the Quidditch captain sought out their head of house, there was a chance that Viddles and the journal still remained, perhaps with Viddles himself hidden within.

More professors had arrived, acting as go betweens for the heads of house. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had similar tales of woe to report, their muggleborns were gone.

A search for the journal began, the six and seventh year students aided the professors as they picked apart the common room.

"I can't believe this," Ron sputtered under his breath from his perch against the wall. The younger years had been sat down and instructed to stay put.

"I know," Harry whispered back, "It's been in our room the whole time, then in the dungeons. He could have come out whenever he wanted. And now he has Hermione in with him. I don't think they're going to find the journal in here. If the spells went right though him, who's to say he couldn't go right through the walls and then just use a spell to call the book to him later?"

"They'll have to search the library," Neville said. "If I were him, I'd hide the journal there."

"No," Ron shook his head, "If he goes in and out of the journal, then he'll have to do it somewhere where he won't be seen. That's probably why he never came out and attacked us in the room."

Harry nodded, "If he got caught, we'd know and destroy the diary."

"Not that it can even be destroyed," Ron let out a bitter snort.

Harry raised an eyebrow at Neville, "Ron spied on Draco trying to set it on fire."

"It didn't work," Ron growled then brightened, "And then Malfoy started to cry."

"Honestly, Ron" Harry rolled his eyes, "Make fun of Draco tomorrow, we have to find Hermione _now_."

"What I was saying was," Ron said, "He'll be in Salazar's room."

"A place in the castle only one other person can get into," Neville nodded teary eyed.

"And even if I told everyone where it was and got everyone inside he'd have enough time to do whatever he's doing."

"Worse than that," Ron said, "You'd have to tell someone about being a _you know what_, even if _he_ doesn't know that it's you, whoever it is would be in serious trouble. People don't look on _it_ kindly."

"He's right, Cupcake," Neville whispered, "Who knows what could happen if people find out."

"I don't care what could happen," Harry whispered back in tears, "We have to help Hermione!"

"_We_ will," Ron reassured the smaller boy, "We just need to figure a way out of here. They're sure to do meals in the common rooms, so we -"

"You guy's are going to do something," Dean leaned over to whisper to the whispering boys. He had paled to the colour of old chocolate, "I'm right, aren't I?"

"Shush, Dean," Harry quieted the boy.

"I want to help," he replied.

"We can't take you with us, Dean," Ron shook his head, "We've been training all year, you don't know enough spells."

Dean deflated but sat back up a moment later, "There's got to be something I can do."

"You can help sneak us out," Ron answered. "We need to get under the cloak and into the hall, but we'll be in real trouble if they know we sneaked out."

"Which means we need the cloak to be where Oli left it," Harry said. "I can send it back with Twinkle, but we'll need you to put it back in the dorm. I'm pretty sure Oliver would cover for us, but Percy won't, so it has to be somewhere that they can find it."

"You want them to think you were captured," Dean nodded and paled further, "Then you have to take me with you. I bet I'm the only muggleborn in the school still ... not kidnapped. Why would they take you guys and leave the last muggleborn behind? Even if I can't help fight, I've got to leave with you or they won't buy it."

"Bollocks," Ron cursed, "You're right."

"That makes it even harder," Neville's teeth were chattering with nerves, "How are four of us going to sneak out?"

"Mister Harry Potter!" a high pitched squeaky voice hushed from behind him.

Harry and the others jumped; with his wand in hand he turned around and choked down a squeal. Most of a green, bulbous eyed face was peaking at him through the stone wall he sat against.

"Dobby!" Harry gasped, "What are you doing here?"

"Young Master is calling Dobby so Dobby comes," the elf nodded, "Young Master sends Dobby to checking you is alright."

"We're fine so far, Dobby," Harry crossed his fingers and gave a silent apology for lying to the little elf, "But it isn't safe for us here,_ Tom Riddle_ is coming to get us soon, you have to help us get out."

"I is not knowing how!" Dobby whimpered.

"Can't you just get us out the same way you got into Hogwarts in the first place?" Ron whispered.

Dobby shook his head through the wall, "Only if you was house-elves."

"How are you doing that anyway?" Dean asked, "What happened to the wall?"

"I is moving the wall somewhere else," Dobby answered.

"Then can't you maybe move the floor we're sitting on somewhere else for a bit and we'll fall through?" Dean said.

"Yes!" Ron exclaimed, "What's underneath us?"

"It is closets and dusty classrooms," Dobby's hands poked through the wall to pull at his long ears, "Hogwarts elves is being bad with theys cleaning, they is!"

"Dobby," Harry stopped the elf before he could punish himself on the Hogwarts elves behalf, "Move the floor that the four of us are sitting on and make sure our tushies have a soft landing."

Dobby gave an eager nod and with a CRACK! the boys began to fall.

Dobby was waiting for them in the classroom below. By the inches of dust gathered, it appeared the room had long since been out of use.

"I is telling Young Master you is safe now!" Dobby shreeched.

"Tell Draco that we're going to Myrtle's bathroom and to meet us there," Harry paused at Dobby's puzzled face, "It's the safest place."

The house-elf nodded and with another, CRACK! he was gone.

"We have to hurry," Ron hurried them forward in the dim pre-sunrise light, "They'll already be searching for us."

The boys ran through the halls, avoiding paintings and other semi sentient beings whenever they could. It was a close call when Ron gasped out and started skating across the floor.

"I think Percy's trying to summon me!" he shouted. They pulled back and soon the spell was broken. "Honestly!" he scowled.

Dobby arrived back in the furthest, darkest corner of the Slytherin common room.

"They is safe and is wanting to be safer in the Myrtle's bathroom, Master Malfoy, you is to be going there to be safer too."

Draco nodded and looked toward Slytherins' staff protector. Professor Snape had been enlisted to search for the missing students, and another professor was placed in charge of the Slytherins care in their head of house's absence.

"I can't believe they sent Lockhart to protect us," Vincent glared at the shiny head of hair sitting at the prized couch closest to the largest fire. Not just sitting, but sprawled right across so that no one else could enjoy the warmth.

"I guess they need the real teachers to guard everybody else," Greg shrugged, "It's not like anyone here is in danger."

"We're lucky," Draco sneered, "Any other professor and we'd have a hard time finding Harry." He turned to glare at the elf, "Get us out of here, now," he demanded. With a loud crack, a sinking sensation and a whoosh, they found themselves in a freezing stone room filled with bubbling cauldrons at various stages of completion.

"This is Professor Snape's workroom!" Vincent gasped.

"Dobby, get us to the hallway," Draco frowned at the room, "He'll have wards up that'll catch us if we use the door."

A gap appeared in the far stone wall and the trio hurried through.

"Dobby," Draco snapped at the elf, "Go back to the manor before Mother notices you gone, I will summon you again if I need anything."

The elf nodded and disappeared.

The boys hurried through the halls unsure of where to go as that section of the lower dungeons had always been warded out of bounds. Until that day, they hadn't even known they existed.

They finally made their way to familiar territory, and were able to forge ahead to the ghost's bathroom abode.

They had just entered when a voice rang out behind them, "Stop where you are."

They turned around in shock.

"Lockhart!"

"Has Potter gone ahead without you?" Lockhart waved his wand about, "Or has he not yet arrived?"

"Hasn't arrived," Draco muttered.

"Of course," Lockhart sniffed, "He'll have to rush in just in the nick of time to save the day. There's a secret passage somewhere in here?"

The Slytherins stared back stoney eyed.

"Well you can only wait so long before all the little muggleborns are dead," Lockhart grinned.

"I don't get it," Greg frowned, "Don't you want to help save them?"

"Of course not!" Lockhart shivered, "Risk myself on some dangerous mission? Potter will save them."

"And then you'll kill Harry and take the credit?" Draco sneered.

"Kill?" he spat, "Don't be stupid. But, I am pretty handy with a few spells. Speaking of which," he raised his wand, "Obliviate!"

The Gryffindors reached a break in the path, "Neville," Harry rubbed the boy's trembling arm, "Take Dean to _that spot_ in the dungeons and wait for the students to come out, they might need some help."

Neville nodded and the four boys exchanged hugs.

Dean paused before leaving with Neville, "You're sure you can do this, mate?" he worried.

Harry fought off his own trembles and gave the boy a raised eyebrow, "We're too cute to fail." He grabbed Ron's hand and the two took off.

"At least the basilisk is already dead," Ron forced a joke as the two arrived at Myrtle's entrance.

"The basilisk! Fire couldn't hurt the diary but basilisk bl -" Harry stopped in shock at the sight that greeted him in the bathroom. "Oh my goodness!"

"Is that," Ron let out a nervous but genuine laugh, "Lockhart?"

Draco smirked from his perch at the sink, while Harry gave the unconscious twit at his feet a nudge with his shoe.

"Everyone's going to think I killed another professor," Harry pouted.

"He hardly counts as a professor," Draco sneered, "Besides, he isn't dead."

"Well, we don't _think_ he's dead," Vincent shrugged, "We haven't checked."

"He attacked us and we disarmed him," Greg explained.

"He went flying and hit his head," Draco smirked.

"Draco thinks he might make a good shield," Vincent's smirk faded, "We heard about what happened and were finally going to use the diary, but it was gone!"

The Gryffindors nodded, "We know," Ron said, "He used it to kidnap all the muggleborn students, they're trapped inside we think. He's got Hermione."

The Slytherins gasped.

"Only Dean is left," Harry said, "He and Neville are at the dungeon exit, waiting for us to come back out."

"How did you escape?" Draco had begun to look sickly.

Ron and Harry exchanged grim glances; it had been too close.

"Oli and Percy had a plan," Ron and then Draco went on to explain their tales in full, while Harry leaned against the sink in deep thought and a full pout.

"You're going to have to send that Mister Axelrod a thank you note, those Band-It bands really worked," Gregory added.

"Hermione should have been wearing one," Harry sighed, "We didn't need two in our room."

"Too late for that, Cupcake," Vincent said, "We'll get her back."

Ron tilted his head toward the sink, "We reckon he's got them down there."

The Slytherins nodded, "Do we know how to stop him?" Draco swallowed.

"Well spells go right through him so that's out," Harry frowned, "But he seems to be able to hold the diary easily enough, and his wand."

"That wand," Ron furrowed his brow, "You know, I'm almost sure it looked like Ginny's. Why would he have stolen it?"

"Maybe he didn't have one?" Vincent shrugged, "That Creevey kid got attacked the same night she was, right? Maybe he attacked your sister, stole her wand and went after Creevey?"

"But if it _is_ her wand," Draco quirked a brow, "Then Ron can summon it easy enough, that leaves him disarmed at least."

"Except the dozen muggleborns he kidnapped," Ron snorted, "He probably took their wands too."

"As if," Greg shook his head, "Even if he took them, it's really hard to use a wand that's not you own, even the best wizards have trouble."

"Well Ron uses Charlie's old wand," Harry furrowed his brow, "And Neville manages to use his dad's."

"Yeah, but," Draco gave an apologetic shrug, "Just barely."

"So how's Viddles using Ginny's?" Ron frowned.

"Was it Ginny's?" Harry pushed out his bottom lip, "For certain?"

Ron paused in thought and gave his hair a frustrated pass through, "Yeah, it was hers, I'm sure of it."

The group paused and puzzled over that revelation.

"Summon it," Draco urged.

"I don't have that spell down yet," Ron glared, "Even Hermione doesn't get it perfect every time, we've hardly practiced it you know what with all our other extra work."

"It belongs more to you than it does to him," Harry squeezed Ron's hand, "He's half transparent so maybe it'll be easier, and he won't be expecting it, _and_ you'll have help, we'll all cast the spell at the same time, but not yet. As soon as we find him, we'll start summoning Ginny's wand, if we do it now, it'll give him too much warning that we're on our way."

Draco's cheeks tinged with pink at his gaff.

Ron was still worried at Viddles use of Ginny's wand, "Does this mean Ginny's evil?" he whispered, "If her magic is so compatible with Voldemort's that he can use her wand?"

Harry shook his head though he had his own doubts, "No way," he said, "If she was evil he would have recruited her, not attacked her. You said it yourself, she didn't weigh a thing and she you could see right through her!"

"Oh no, oh no, oh no," Ron began to mumble, "I could see right through her, don't you see? We could see right through _him_. Oh no."

"Oh no!" Harry paled.

"Oh no," Vincent and Gregory caught on.

"I hate to ruin the festivities," Draco managed sarcasm through his nausea, "But did Hermione once mention something about how your sister was always writing in a diary?"

"And wasn't it your father who helped her get her things together that day in the Leaky Cauldron?" Harry added, "He could have slipped it to her then."

"I _knew_ he was too nice that day!" Draco stormed, "I thought he was being polite because you were my friends, but no he just wanted to send the Dark Lord home with you."

"His magic was broken," Gregory started.

"So he stole Ginny's," Ron finished.

"And you know, my scar didn't hurt earlier," Harry's eyes widened, "The Band-It band woke me up, not my scar. Last year when I met Voldemort I could barely stand my scar hurt so much, but if it's Ginny's magic, and not his ...?"

"And now he has all the muggleborns trapped in the diary," Ron said, "He might not be able to kill them directly, but if he drains their magic -"

"Then he gets stronger and the muggleborns wind up muggles," Draco sneered, "It they're lucky."

"We might be able to get Ginny's wand away from him," Ron took a deep breath, "And there are five of us."

"If we summon the cloak we'll have a better chance," Harry said. "Enough time has passed that Percy or Oliver would already have checked if it was there or not."

"We can't," Draco said, "If anyone notices the cloak moving, they'll follow it and we'll be caught. If anyone shows up we won't be able to rescue Hermione without people finding out you're a parselmouth."

Harry pouted but agreed, "Fine, but we need a plan."

"Do you, you know, er, have one?" Greg shrugged.

"I do," Harry tossed his wild mane and leaned forward to share.

"I don't know, Harry," Ron frowned once Harry had finished.

"I can do this, Ron," Harry's eyes were wide, "Besides, do you have a better idea?"

"Ready, Harry?" Draco bit his lip.

Harry wiggled his hips in a serpentine swirl, "_Open!_"

After each had cast an unbreakable charm around the professor's vital areas, the boys all grabbed a Lockhart limb, "Ladies first," Ron smirked as they pushed the ponce forward.


	17. The Heir of Slytherin

**Chapter 17 - The Heir of Slytherin**

The ride down was made in silence, the loudest thing they did was draw their wands. Lockhart spilled out in a boneless heap and cushioned the sound of the others arrival as they landed on him. A featherweight charm was soon cast, and Gregory dragged the fuchsia robed man behind him.

Harry ushered the others past the basilisk enterprise, while Ron lagged behind to grab two of the blood filled vials, which had been collecting dust since their last visit. He slipped one into his own robes, and palmed one into Harry's hand once he had caught back up.

Harry took over as Lockhart's handler when they reached the shed skin, the plan being to do as Draco suggested and use him as a mild shield in case Viddles awaited him on the other side of the walled off room. Ron and the Slytherins cast every silencing and privacy charm they knew on themselves before continuing forward. As they crept ahead, Gregory squeezed Harry's shoulder and motioned to his head. Harry nodded and the boys began concentrating on emptying their minds. Even in his weakened state, Voldemort had been able to read Harry's surface thoughts at their Mirror of Erised encounter. Secrecy was of the essence.

They arrived at the first parseltongue sealed area. They stopped and Harry turned to watch Ron hold up his hand, five fingers spread apart, now the thumb down, the pinkie, his ring finger, his middle finger, his index.

Almost as one the enchanted boys summoned Ginny's wand.

Harry hissed the passageway open as soon as their lips stopped moving and they waited. It was over thirty seconds later, but a slim wand did indeed shoot out of the tunnel, Ron jumped at nearly being poked in the eye and cursed, Draco replied with a smirk, but Harry couldn't hear either of them.

"Be ready, but wait for it," he breathed out. The boys nodded. Draco reached forward and grabbed Harry's hand. A furrowed brow, Harry squeezed Draco's hand and nodded.

Harry commanded the passage to stay open indefinitely and hurried through, pushing the charmed Defence professor before him. The muggleborn students were unconscious and aligned on the floor in the centre of the room, a silver mist connected them to a leather bound book lying off to the side of them.

Harry didn't stop to examine the students or the book, instead he ran across to the next passage and in a whispered hiss, commanded it to open and like the one before, stay open indefinitely. He returned to the students and finally set down the professor so he could fuss over Hermione. She was breathing but pale.

Harry and Ron had spent most of their time in Salazar's rooms with the basilisk near the entrance, it was a surprise for him to encounter and adjust to the green cast of the statued room, reflected now in the Hermione's sleeping face. Harry moved to pull her toward the exit.

"I wouldn't touch that if I were you," a voice hissed. Harry spun to find Riddle leaning against the side wall.

"_That_," Harry glared up from his stoop, "Is the smartest witch Hogwarts has ever seen, and you're the one who shouldn't touch her." Harry did, however move away from his friend. He grabbed Lockhart's arm and dragged the man away, the translucent figure matching his every step. Viddles was less see through than he had been during his thwarted attack on the second year dorm, but still had a slight blur to the edges. Harry stopped when his own back was facing the far wall, Slytherin's statue behind him and to his left Viddles stood before him, with his back to the entryway.

"You don't really think I'm going to let you sneak away, do you?" Viddles narrowed his eyes, "Harry Potter, I presume?"

Harry squirreled his face at the question, "You presume?" he sassed, "Well that's nice!" He planted a hand on his hip and huffed, "I've killed you twice now, you could have the decency to remember what I look like!"

Viddles raised a brow through his glare but it was Harry who continued. There was no time to waste.

He took a step closer to the teen, then another, close enough to ensure Viddles full attention. Viddles stood his ground. Harry focused on the face before him, keeping his eyes glued while he watched his friends sneak inside with his peripheral vision. Ron went first, hurrying along from the entrance to hide behind a stone pillar. Draco sprinted over to meet him. Gregory was on his way when Viddles spoke again.

"What are you going to do?" he sent Harry a vicious smirk, "You must know you can't curse me."

"Not yet," Harry gulped and tossed his hair, "But once you drain enough magic from the students, you'll be solid enough to curse I imagine."

"I'm almost impressed," Viddles sneered.

"I'm not," Harry huffed, "It's a stinky plan." He took yet another step toward the former Dark Lord, then another, not stopping until they were just a foot apart. He circled all the way around the teen, stopping when he returned to his left side, Viddles pivoted to slightly to face him.

"No, actually," Harry nibbled his bottom lip and gave the boy a full once over, "I _am_ impressed. You look good," he let himself babble while Ron made another silent dash across the green tinged floor. "Myrtle said you were dreamy, but considering how you turned out, you'll understand why I didn't really believe her. I think we can both agree that you really didn't age well. Though I suppose getting killed by an infant and becoming a hairband will do that to you."

"How did you do it?" Viddles hissed, "How is it a baby could defeat the greatest wizard of all time? "

Harry wrinkled his brow at the question but shrugged it off and forced himself to swerve again, two more steps on a wide axis and Viddles was facing the entrance, his back to the muggleborn students and the Slytherin statue.

Harry forced his attention from straying to his friends who had dashed from their hiding spot to the slew of unconscious students. Their initial intent was to simply search the chamber for the journal, or sneak it away from Viddles if it was in plain sight, but the actual presence of the students led to their alternate, and more precarious plan. They rescued a pair of students at a time, each of them using a lightening charm on one and carrying them, and a levitation charm on another and floated them to the exit. Ron had Hermione in his arms and Colin floating out before him in his first effort, to Harry's relief.

"Look at you," Viddle continued, "There's nothing special about you at all."

Harry let out a nervous giggle, "And that's why you sent the diary to me? And that's why I'm the only person aside from you that can even get into Slytherin's special room, or even knows about it? Yes, I'm completely ordinary."

Viddles paused as if to consider him while Harry squirmed under the scrutiny. Viddles sneer turned into a careful smile, "Perhaps there is indeed something special about you," he leaned closer to Harry, "You know, we're very similar, you and me," he said, "Both orphaned early on, both of us overcoming the muggle filth running through half our blood, both of us with pure old magic in the other half, both more powerful than those around us, both of us willing to do whatever it takes," he motioned to Lockhart's crumpled form, "We don't have to be enemies, Harry. In fact, you speak parseltongue, we might even be family."

Harry rolled his eyes, "Oh is _that_ why you came after me then? You didn't want to share the inheritance? Well aren't we just Cain and Abel? I'll be Cain." He choked down a gasp as Gregory nearly dropped an older student, and forced his eyes not to wander from the older boy.

"Harry," Viddles frowned with disappointment, "It doesn't have to be that way. Just tell me how you did it."

Harry cocked his head at the repeated questioning, "You really don't know," he said, stunned, "How can ... oh my goodness, you're not my Voldemort, are you?"

Viddles' glare deepened.

"No," Harry's eyes widened. He shook his head, both at the realisation, and at his friends who in their shock at Harry's pronouncement, had paused to listen, "Voldemort was different last time he and I met," he continued. "He would _not_ _stop_ to ask silly questions, and he ... well even all ugly and stuck on the back of a head, he was a Dark Lord, someone worth bothering with, you're just a kid. No, you're not Voldemort at all, are you? You're just Tom Riddle." Harry's eyes went wide with awe, "Are you from the past or something? He brought you into the future?"

"My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle," this newly revealed Riddle hissed, "And I assure you, I am Lord Voldemort. I'm a memory, preserved in the diary for fifty years."

"Humph," Harry pouted and gasped, "So now there are _two of you?"_ Harry couldn't imagine two Voldemorts loose in the world. "So where is he then? You're supposed to restore his magic or something, right? Why else would he bother with all of this nonsense?"

"_He_ didn't do anything," Riddle spat, "This has been in the making for fifty years. Once I had found this, my birthright as Slytherin's heir, Salazar's Chamber of Secrets, I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so future generations could benefit from my knowledge and continue Salazar's great work. It worked perfectly. I do miss my wand though, I wonder what's become of it?"

"Voldemort," Harry giggled, astonished, "Oh honey, Voldemort probably has your wand. And I don't think he'll want to share. Though you'll probably be able to take it easy enough, he doesn't ..." Harry tried but failed to completely squash down his grin, "He still doesn't have a body or anything!"

A memory! With no real magic of his own. Despite the current situation, Harry could have jumped sailor kicks right there. He had beaten the real Voldemort when he was in Quirrell's body, Quirrell, a fully grown adult. This foe was just a kid. He wasn't about to toss his wand to the ground, but the desire to take a deep relieved breath didn't lessen any.

"So how'd you do it?" Harry peeped, "The diary steals magic?"

"Stalling for time, Harry Potter?"

"Not stalling," Harry shrugged, "Just waiting for you to get solid enough to do something about."

Riddle let out a dark chuckle, "Alright,"

"So?" Harry pressed.

"The diary," Riddle smiled, "Little Ginerva Weasley had been writing in me, pouring her soul into me, which was exactly what I needed."

"You stole her soul?" Harry gasped and widened his eyes to popping in horror. Ron outright dropped his wand, luckily it landed on one of the students without a sound. "Get out!" he gasped with disbelief and urged his friends to hurry in the same breath.

"Not stole, borrowed. Don't look so appalled, it isn't like I didn't let her use a little of mine in return," Riddle grinned, "Oh it was easy. Such rage, I couldn't have asked for an better host. I grew stronger and more powerful on a diet of her hatred and anger. I thought I'd be enduring months and months of silly drivel, scraping by on childish emotional refuse. But no, dear Ginny was full of venom, didn't hold back a thing. _'Blasted Harry Potter,'"_ Riddle mimicked with a high pitched laugh, "_'I hate him Tom! He thinks he's better than everyone because he stopped You-Know-Who. I'd do anything to get rid of him!_""

"She used to have a crush on me," Harry shrugged, "But I like boys."

"Yes, I heard. Ruined her future, apparently," Tom laughed again, Harry cringed at the high notes, "I didn't even have to fight for control of her like I had originally planned. No, it was so easy to talk her into it, 'I'll take over your body for a little while, you won't even remember what happened, so then you can't be blamed, you won't be responsible for what happens, since you'll have done nothing wrong.' She wanted to get back at you so badly she let herself believe that. Such a _nice_ girl. The Weasleys should have stopped at six."

"Why'd you hurt her then?" Harry pouted, "If she was so useful."

Riddle let out a long sigh, "She did grow tiresome, _'They're not blaming Potter the way I thought, Ron didn't abandon him the way you promised, Nobody likes me, I don't think you've been honest with me'_. It was a relief when she finally collapsed. She didn't quite have enough power to share, but she had enough to allow me to leave the pages of the diary at last. And of course there was someone else who might serve my purposes."

"You sent yourself to me to steal my soul," Harry said, "And my magic."

"So you can imagine my disappointment when you didn't write in me," Tom sent an exaggerated frown, "I was of the understanding that you were a delicate little cry-baby, I had been bracing myself for your overblown little melodramas."

Harry let out an annoyed harrumph and twisted his lips into a pursed frown. With a huff he gave a sassy finger snap, "One," he said, "I am _not_ a cry-baby, and two, why would I ever even touch something I knew belonged to stinky old Voldemort? And three, I wouldn't have poured my heart out to a stupid diary anyway, I have actual friends for that sort of thing."

"There is so much I can teach you, Harry," Riddle gave the younger boy a swoon worthy grin, "Lesson one, friends are a liability and a weakness."

"Says the boy without a body who grew up to live on the back of someone's head," Harry peeped, "Having no friends doesn't mean you're strong, it _means_ you're a loser."

"Everyone adores me," Riddles glared, "I've always been able to charm the people I needed."

"Right," Harry rolled his eyes, "I bet you've never even had a boyfriend, or a girlfriend. And I bet in all this time, Voldemort's never had one either. Heavens to Betsy, why in the world would you want to become _him_ again?"

"I'm not going to be him," Riddle's smile turned vicious, "I'm going to be better. Now, I've told you something. It's your turn. How did you defeat me?"

Harry rolled his eyes and huffed, "Which time?"

"The first," Riddle answered through clenched teeth.

"Well I don't really know," Harry shrugged his shoulder, "If you want answers, you should ask yourself, you know, the _real_ Voldemort. I was a baby at the time so I don't really remember how I did it. He's the only one who would know for sure. He might not want to talk about it through, dying must be very traumatic."

"You'll have to let me know," Riddle glared.

"This is just embarrassing," Harry squeaked out another giggle, "You were at the height of your power when I beat you the first time, and I was just a baby! Now you're just some kid? Not even close to who you were at your best, and you expect to fight me and win? That's just bad planning, and you don't even have a wand!"

"You don't really think I need that wand, do you?" Viddles hissed, and pulled a new wand out of his robes, "There are so many others I can use now."

Harry fought down his shivers and rolled his eyes, "Don't you get it?" he sighed, "You can't beat me. It doesn't even matter what spell I used or what charm or what defence. I defeated you because I'm just better. I was then, and I am now. Bigger, badder, better looking and more famous than Voldemort ever was. Give up already."

"You're only famous for defeating _me,_" Riddle hissed, "Without me, you'd be nothing."

"Without _Voldemort_," Harry winked, "I might not be famous, but I'd still be me. You on the other hand ..." Harry paused and considered. This wasn't Voldemort. This was Tom Riddle, teenaged Hogwarts student.

"You're just a kid," Harry trembled and worried, "You haven't even done anything really bad yet. Well I guess you killed Myrtle, but that was probably an accident. You probably didn't even know she was in the bathroom when you brought the basilisk out. You really don't have to do all this again."

Harry saw the teen beginning to grow restless. He didn't know what to do about this not yet Voldemort, but he needed more time. He pushed Lockhart's body forward, "I brought him for _my_ Voldemort," Harry shrugged, "I thought he had performed some sort of ritual to give him a body of his own, one that matched the level of his magic, it's broken, by the way, so the teenaged body made sense. I figured he might fancy a trade. Lockhart is rich and famous, and everyone knows he's a poncy twit, so no one would suspect him. It's not like Voldemort could just go around and not be recognised, you know. But you could have him instead?"

"Poisoned probably," Riddle scoffed, "So you wouldn't have to fight me yourself. Gryffindors so hate to get their hands dirty."

"The real Voldemort would recognise a poisoned body pretty quick I think," Harry harrumphed and pursed his lips, "I made sure it would be a fair trade. If he won, he'd have a body no one would associate with him, and if he lost, well at least if he was properly alive," Harry pouted, "He could properly die, probably."

Riddle glared at the body and sneered back at Harry, "I'm fine, thanks."

Harry's eyes widened as the boy continued, "I've brought my," Riddle turned around waving his arm in a dramatic swoop behind him, "Own," he finished.

Draco and Ron were out of sight, presumably pushing students through the exit, but Gregory and Vincent froze with panic in Riddle's livid gaze.

Gregory pushed Vincent forward with the second to last set of students, and after a panicked glance to Harry, gritted his teeth to grab the last.

Harry threw Lockhart between Riddle and Gregory just in time to absorb Riddles curse, giving Greg the chance he needed to get himself and the fourth year muggleborn out.

The already unconscious, and rather battered professor seemed to crumple even further with the impact of the spell, Harry hoped the unbreakable charms were holding up.

"I think you may need to reassess your stance on friends," Harry shouted. He was soon diving to get away from Riddles next spell.

Ron sprinted back from the exit and charged the teen forcing Riddle to take a step back. Ron neither slammed into a solid body nor passed through air as expected, but instead oozed through the older boy, grabbing the wand in his hand as he tumbled.

Ron grimaced and tucked the stolen wand away in his robes and hurried back to his feet.

"He has more!" Harry shrieked and charged the older boy as well. A shadow was all the warning Harry had before Draco added himself to the ooze slowed pile up. Ron and Draco forced Riddle arms from fighting, slipping through the still ethereal teen before having to grab on again and hold him back. Harry finally rolled away, his arms full of wands.

"However did you hide these all in your robes?" Harry huffed. He backed away from the group and raised his own wand. Ron followed.

After mouthing silently at Harry, Ron waved his wand and tried again, "Solid enough, I reckon."

"Greg and Vin?" Harry worried.

"They're through the exit," Draco shuffled away from Riddle as well and raised his wand, mimicking the others. Riddle stood at the epicentre. "They're going to use sleeping spells on the students until we're out."

"Did you hear?" Harry said. "He isn't Voldemort."

"We heard. What do you want us to do, Harry?" Ron's shaking wand steadied.

"Don't tell me you take orders," Riddle scoffed with a grin, "From him?"

"I'm Second-in-Command," Ron shrugged, "Now shut up."

"I don't know," Harry shook his head, "He isn't exactly a murderer yet, but ..."

"But he will be," Ron snorted. "You heard him, Harry, he's just itching to become Voldemort again, and to do it right this time."

"Ah, Ronald Weasley," Riddles said, "Ginny misses you very much. You know, had you paid a bit more attention to her, she would have never needed to open her heart to an invisible stranger. Your neglect has set her down such a troublesome path. Such havoc, no?"

"Yes, and for what?" Harry frowned, he really did want to know, "Why bother with all the attacks and the mud and scaring people? You had a body, why not just leave the country? And why bother with Ginny anyway? Couldn't Mister Malfoy have given the diary to _anyone?_ He could have just brought someone home and forced them to write in you, no one would have known."

"You got taken," Ron snorted, "Either Mister Malfoy set you up or the real Voldemort is just using you as a distraction."

"My Galleons are on my father," Draco let out a pale smirk, "The Dark Lord has been gone for over a decade, why would my father bother try to get him back now? No, Father used you. Probably to get rid of Dumbledore."

"Perhaps," Riddle said, "But better here than trapped in a book in a stuffy manor library. Malfoy, _Lucius Malfoy, _will get his due," he raised a glared brow at Draco.

The boys exchanged wide eyes, "Is Ginny alright, after what you've done?" Harry nibbled his lips.

"She's not writhing in agony, I imagine," Riddle shrugged, "But, who's to know? Maybe she is. She may never recover, but even if she does, it'll be a difficult road. She'll be expelled from Hogwarts, shunned in the wizarding world by all sides. She'll forever be remembered in connection with setting my basilisk loose on the school, painting mud above the sleeping mudbloods. But I could be of help, perhaps?"

The boys exchanged fierce looks around the teen. He was right, Ginny was in some serious trouble.

"Mister Mal -" Ron started, glancing over to Harry.

"I know, Ron," Harry stopped him. However willing she may have been, Ginny was far less to blame than the senior Malfoy was, and they had agreed to keep _him_ out of trouble. Harry pursed his lips and dropped his eyes to the crumpled form on the ground. He turned back to face Riddle, "What does the 'Obliviate' spell do?"

Riddle paused at the abrupt change in subject but only for a moment, "It erases memory," he answered, "An expert can pick and choose exactly which memories are to be erased, even going so far as to erase everything connected to a specific theme, regardless how far back some of those memories might extend."

Harry paused to consider while Draco and Ron held their breath for his decision. Lockhart had earned his hazardous place, they would have to risk it, and hopefully come up with something better before it was too late.

"Alright," Harry trembled and sent his fiercest emerald glare at Riddle. "Here's what we're going to do. You give Ginny back whatever she needs to wake up and be healthy, everything you took from her. Then take Lockhart in her place."

"You need someone's body to drain," Ron said, "And we need someone to take the fall for Ginny. Lockhart's that someone."

"The students are gone and you're not getting them back," Draco added, "But you'll get solid and walk away anyway. That's a win."

Riddle grinned, "No."

Harry rolled his eyes, "Why not?" he squealed, "You don't really think you can fight us? Do you? I don't want to kill you. I'm helping you get your magic back. What more do you want?"

"I will not leave my diary alone with you," Riddle sneered, "If you want to help Ginny, you'll have to do better than that."

"Afraid we'll read your private journal?" Draco smirked.

Ron snorted, "You have to go inside the diary, don't you?" he asked. "To do whatever it is you have to do to Lockhart."

Riddle raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment.

"Fine," Harry rolled his eyes and sniffed, "You'll bring Lockhart and me with you. The diary will be safe."

"No," Ron shouted, "I'll go, if it's for Ginny, I should go."

Draco groaned, "Guilt again? I hate you both, you know that, right?" he sighed, "I'll go, it's my father's fault in the first place."

It was with fear and awe that Harry and Ron watched Riddle grab Lockhart's and then Draco's wrist. With one step, the three of them disappeared in a magical feat neither observer could have ever imagined.

"He seemed awful keen on the diary's safety," Ron whispered, "I'll bet if it's destroyed ..." he trailed off.

"I know," Harry sighed, "But he ..."

"I know," Ron agreed, "But he's done enough and he's not even really human, is he? He's a memory."

Harry shook his head, "He's more than just a memory, Ron, I'm sure of it. Memories can't become real, no one would ever die otherwise. Memories are like what's in the portraits at Hogwarts, they're not real. He said he let Ginny use part of his soul, that means he has one. He isn't fully real, and he's not just a memory, but he's something in between. I don't know what, but it's important."

"The diary is more important," Ron said.

Harry nodded and stooped to hold onto the journal.

Ron bent and reached over to take it himself, "On account of Ginny," he explained.

Harry nodded and warned him to be careful and run for the exit if things looked bad. Ron held the edges of the journal and waited.

A hand appeared, and in a flash a full body seemed to roll out, then another body followed. Draco was splayed out on the ground clutching Riddle's left ankle.

Ron snatched the diary to his chest moments before Riddle could grab it. The two stood locked in a glare.

"He was going to leave me there!" Draco yelled, scrambling from his sprawl to shaky feet.

"You would have been pushed out when the memories finished," Riddle kept his eyes on Ron and smirked through his glare.

"You're a bloody psychopath!" Draco spat back.

"My diary, if you would?"

"Not bloody likely," Ron panted out in distress. Harry kept his wand steady but clapped his other hand over Ron's eyes.

"So it works both ways, huh?" Harry squeaked and paused to return to his rudimentary occlumency, "Is that how you _charm_ those people you need? That isn't charisma, you know, and it's creepy."

"My diary."

Harry removed his hand from Ron's eyes once he noticed his breathing regulate and slow, a sure sign that Ron had caught on and resumed his occlumency as well.

"Not until we know Ginny's safe," Ron kept his eyes on Riddles nose and chin.

Harry saw Ron already beginning to tremble, he pulled the red-faced boy further away from Riddle, "Ron, give me the diary," Harry whispered, "Take a break and then switch back when it looks like I'm in trouble."

Ron nodded and pressed the leather book into Harry's arms. A faint tingling spread across Harry's scar, he glanced up in shock and found himself in Riddle's gaze; he was assailed by a push to put the diary down, that it wasn't important and he shouldn't bother with it.

Harry grimaced at the force, Riddle wanted the diary back at all costs.

"Just relax, alright?" Harry gasped, "You'll get the diary back, we just need to know that Ginny's going to be okay first. We gave you Lockhart, you give us Ginny, that was the deal."

"Malfoy," Ron said, "Get that house-elf of yours to check in on Ginny right away would you?"

Draco nodded and called for Dobby. Nothing. "He can't find me here. I'll have to go outside to call him."

"Have him take you back to Myrtle's bathroom when he returns with the news," Harry said, "Dobby can just move the sink so you can come back down the tunnel and give us the word."

Draco nodded but paused before heading to the exit, "Are you sure you two ...?"

"We'll be fine," Harry urged the boy on. Draco ran to the exit, slowing twice to glance over his shoulder at the tableau behind him.

The pressure on Harry's mind increased. With a sinking feeling in his tummy, he began to comprehend just what that must mean. He turned to Ron once again, this time adding a privacy spell.

"I don't think he can give her back," he whispered as softly as he could manage, "He wants the diary back more than ever now that we're waiting for a progress report."

"Ginny -" Ron choked.

"There's only one thing I can think of to try," Harry worried, "But -"

"Harry!" Ron shouted and pushed the smaller boy to the ground, a second curse catching the edge of his robes as he fell.

Harry rolled and sprung to his feet, one hand in his pocket and the other on the diary, "Run!" he yelped.

The boys sprinted in opposite directions, Harry dodging and diving as he went. He caught a break when Riddle was forced to turn his attention to Ron's attack.

Harry yanked the bottle of basilisk blood from his robes and with a frantic pull the top was off. A panicked glance up a moment too late saw a spell coming toward him, striking his chest and shoulder. He fell back, the jar falling from his hands, landing on the diary.

Pain beyond anything Harry could imagine possible seared through his left hand, he couldn't breathe even to scream but an inhuman wail erupted through the room nonetheless. In a moment the pain abated, and Riddle was gone.

Harry took a moment to make sense of what had happened. The diary was gone, all that remained was an acrid puddle in a crevice of charred stone. He looked down at his hands and splayed his fingers before him. The flash of agony, the numbness, a smell of burnt meat. His left hand now consisted of only his ring and pinky fingers. He pushed himself away from the diary and slumped over in a sickened faint.

Harry awoke to find himself half sitting up. The room span but soon settled. His hair was wet and something trembled at his back.

"Harry?" Ron leaned back to wipe his face on his sleeve, but the old tears were just replaced with new ones.

"Lockhart didn't come back out, did he?" Harry curled into himself and wrapped his arms around his legs, he bent his head down in an attempt to calm his nausea and let tears spill down his thighs.

"Harry, you're bleeding," Ron sobbed as well. "A cutting curse I think, and your hand!"

"I killed another one," Harry wailed, "No question about it this time."

"We have to get you to the hospital wing," Ron continued as if Harry hadn't spoken and dragged himself and then Harry to their feet. Harry kept his charred hand from touching Ron, but otherwise needed as much help as Ron could give to keep him standing upright and moving forward.

A drop of red splattered on the floor as they walked, "You're bleeding," Harry said in wonderment. He looked up at Ron, blood streaked across his left cheek to his jawline.

"It's just a scratch," Ron assured him. They crossed out of the chamber.

They found the others sitting, pacing, or huddled together in the dungeons, the unconscious students off to the side.

Harry slid down the wall and slumped to the ground and let his friends words wash over him without comprehension. Ron stayed silent as well but his wet eyes and stony glare spoke volumes.

Nobody asked where Lockhart was.

Harry's eyes roamed over the sleeping students, pausing with a distant blink at Hermione's form. The room seemed to be darkening at the edges.

"Lockhart," Harry heard Draco's voice as if from far away, "When Dumbledore asks, you tell him it was Lockhart all along. Riddle used him and they were so closely connected that when the diary was destroyed, Lockhart went with it. Got it?"

Harry blinked.

"Harry!" Draco shook his shoulders, Harry's head bounced against the wall behind him.

"Yeah," Harry burst into fresh gasping sobs and pushed the boy away with his good, if limp, hand. He hunched forward around his knees again, "It was Lockhart all along."

Harry stayed put while the Slytherin students ran to find their head of house. It was soon a blur of professors and stairs, white walled bustle, spells and poultices and potions that burned so much going down that everything went black and stayed that way for a long while.

Harry blinked his eyes open and glanced around. The infirmary was bathed in the grey orange light of predawn.

"Harry?" came a whisper by his ear, "Cupcake?"

"Ron?" Harry groaned as he turned to his side. Ron was lying next to him under the thin, charmed warm coverings, leaving his own bed beside them rumpled and empty. "Are you alright?" Harry asked.

"Are you?"

Harry stayed silent at the inquiry. His left hand tingled, a quick check found everything where it should be. "I thought the basilisk blood burned my fingers off."

"Pomfrey and Snape grew them back," Ron whispered, "It was awful ... the muscles and ... they weren't sure it would even work. The potions knocked you out."

"Oh," Harry's eyes watered, "I thought maybe none of it had happened and it was all just a horrid dream or something."

"No."

"So, Lockhart ...?"

"Yeah," came Ron's whisper, "There was no other choice, you know that, right?"

Harry stayed silent.

"Ginny's awake," Ron continued, "Dobby came back with the news and Malfoy sent him back to tell her not to say anything. As far as anyone knows, she went to sleep, got attacked, woke up months later. Mum and Dad are real happy, they've been going back and forth between St. Mungo's and here. Mum says that Ginny's weak and will have to recuperate but she'll be fine in a bit. She might have to repeat the year though."

"That's probably better for her," Harry broke his silence, to Ron's relief, "She'll have a fresh start with the new first years."

Ron nodded.

"Is it just tomorrow?" Harry peeped, "Or is it the day after that?"

"Day after," Ron answered, "The other students were released yesterday evening. Hermione's fine, she says she doesn't really remember anything, but she's real peeved that we didn't wake her right away."

"Wait, why are you still here?" Harry began to panic, "I thought you weren't hurt, you said it was just a scratch!"

"It was, I promise," Ron hurried.

Harry forced himself upright and turned to peer at Ron's face. His cheek had an angry red slash ending at his jaw.

"It isn't done healing," Harry wondered, "You'll have a scar."

"Er, well it was sort of dark magic, you know?" Ron flushed, "Besides, Mum says it'll look very rugged and handsome. She likes my hair, by the way."

Harry gave a half-hearted giggle and flopped back onto the pillow, "Does everyone know what happened?"

"Sort of. No not really," Ron let out a snort, "They think we got kidnapped and that we fought off, er, well, Lockhart, to stop him from resurrecting Voldemort. There's an uproar going on about Death Eater Defence professors. Why won't anyone think of the children and all that. We're telling the professors that we were somewhere in the dungeons, since when we escaped that's where we wound up. Riddle hadn't stunned us yet and you fought him off while we rescued the others. And then I fought him while you destroyed the diary."

Harry nodded.

"The Daily Prophet has been trying to sneak into the castle to take pictures of all of us, _Hogwarts' Defenders_ they're calling us. Malfoy's father threatened to sue if a photo of him appeared in the paper without his consent. Dumbledore won't let them in anyway, his dad is just being an ass."

"Dumbledore?"

Ron nodded, "He's been reinstated. Things sorta fell apart once he left, so they figured they had better send him back."

"Oh."

oo00O00oo

The previous day's classes had been cancelled so as to allow the muggleborn students to recover, Tuesday's classes were cancelled so the students could celebrate the return to safe tidings. With the day free, the boys were beseeched with an unrelenting stream of visitors and well wishers.

Harry and Ron managed to avoid dealing with most of their visitors, as at all times they were surrounded by the rest of their friends. Gifts, cards, and candy added another layer of protection. The group of Hogwarts' Defenders had all been receiving thank you owls and gifts, Hermione frowned but kept her mouth shut when they noticed that Harry's list of people whose post could reach him had expanded yet again.

"You're just sore you're not one of the Defenders," Ron gave a half hearted snort.

"If we ever do an interview," Draco smirked before Hermione could manage a full bristling retort, "Cupcake will be sure to tell everyone how you taught him everything he knows."

Harry could only manage a half smile when he found himself buried in Oliver Wood's chiselled chest, as the quidditch captain spouted gratitude and plans for their delayed games.

Harry escaped the friendly onslaught for a couple of hours of nightmare filled napping, and woke to find the room empty. Well, almost.

"Good afternoon, Harry," Professor Dumbledore's low rumble both soothed Harry's mind and put him on edge. He kept his eyes on the old man's chest and took a moment to sit up, put on his glasses, and take a few sips of water, using the delay to begin clearing his mind, though to be honest, he figured it was probably rather useless.

Harry was still reeling from his dreams, and couldn't bring himself to be polite, "What do you want?" he moaned.

Dumbledore frowned, "I was hoping you could tell me what happened when you were taken?"

Harry slumped back into his pillows and closed his eyes, "He, it wasn't Voldemort you know, it was Tom Riddle. He wanted to know how I stopped him when I was a baby. We talked, we fought, he's, _they're_ dead, I'm not. End of story."

"This surprises me, about Gilderoy Lockhart, to hear that he was a Death Eater," Dumbledore's voice soothed.

"He wasn't," Harry snapped. He took a breath and cursed his friends for trying to protect him, and cursed himself and them again for protecting Ginny and Mister Malfoy. This wasn't a game, and it wasn't saving the world, it was a stupid girl, a hateful boy, a ridiculous man, a real Death Eater, and a bunch of kids who were in way over their heads. He opened his eyes to glare at the Headmaster, "Lockhart may have been a lot of things, none of them any good, but he was no Death Eater. It was the diary ... It wasn't his fault. Tom Riddle tricked him."

"What do you recall of your location?" Dumbledore's eyes were piercing, though Harry kept his gaze on the blanket. "It would be best if we could recover Gilderoy's -"

"There's no body," Harry bit down on his lip.

"I see," Dumbledore frowned, "Is there anything more you wish to tell me?"

"No," Harry huffed, "There isn't."

"You are uncomfortable with me," Dumbledore stated with some sadness. "May I ask why?"

"Because I don't trust you," Harry burst out, "Because you use Hogwarts like a battleground. Because you keep setting me up to fight him!"

"Harry, I -"

"You knew he was here!" Harry wailed, "Why didn't you go after him? It wasn't even the real Voldemort this time, you could have stopped him. None of this had to happen!"

"I did my best Harry," Dumbledore's eyes dimmed.

"Then we need someone better," Harry sobbed.

Dumbledore did something Harry did not expect, and pulled the quivering boy into his chest, his long beard soft and warm against Harry's face. Harry wrapped his arms around Dumbledore's back and clung tighter than was safe for a man of such advanced age. Long minutes passed before Harry calmed enough to speak again.

"These horrible things keep happening and I don't know what to do," Harry wiped his eyes and nose in the white beard before him and took a ragged breath, "I killed Professor Quirrell, I killed Lockhart, I killed Tom Riddle, and it doesn't change anything because Voldemort is still out there. I can't keep doing this!"

"You were in a position no one should ever be in, Harry," Dumbledore said, "You made a choice no one should ever have to make, but it had to be done, and you acted valiantly."

"Valiant! Look, I get it, alright?" Harry begged, "No one can stop Voldemort but me, you don't have to keep tiptoeing around it. And I'll do it, I promise, but can't you just keep him away from me until I can manage it without hurting people?"

"No one can -" Dumbledore halted, "Why would you ever think such a thing?"

"You keep dropping hints, these things keep happening, and if you could stop him, you would have, wouldn't you?" Harry leaned forward again to wipe his nose on the headmaster's sparkling sun and moon sky blue robes. "Are you saying it isn't true?" Harry looked back up with hope in his eyes.

The sadness in Dumbledore's eyes seemed to further age the man. "It -" he started but stopped. He let out a long sigh and seemed to deflate, "I'm so sorry, Harry."

"Yeah, me too," Harry slumped into himself, "I can do it though, well not yet, but one day I'll know how," he trembled, "He isn't even real anymore, so it doesn't count as really killing anyone."

"Why do you say this, Harry?" Dumbledore frowned at the tearstained boy, "That it doesn't count."

"Because he doesn't have a soul," Harry's eyes went wide and sad, "I mean, we only get one soul each, right? And Tom Riddle had his, he said so, which means Voldemort must not have one, makes no wonder he was so awful. I didn't want to hurt him, Riddle, I mean. I tried to convince him he didn't have to grow up to be Voldemort again, but he wouldn't listen and then he attacked us and ... I really did want to save him."

Dumbledore's face had gone ashen and mournful. He pulled Harry back into his chest and rested his chin atop the bedraggled black locks. Long moments passed before he spoke, "I may once have thought otherwise, Harry," he said, "But I believe now, that the Tom Riddle you encountered, was already long past the point of saving."


	18. Dobby's Reward

**Chapter 18 - Dobby's Reward**

"He stayed for a while longer and he said that we'd have a talk about Voldemort after I've recovered from my ordeal, and come to terms with everything that's happened," Harry leaned back to cuddle further into Ron's chest, the red-haired boy squeezed him tighter, "I don't really know when that'll be though."

"Do you believe him?" Ron's chin dug into Harry's shoulder, "About doing his best?"

"I don't know," Harry pouted, "I guess so, but he didn't say just what that meant."

"Did you tell him about my father?" Draco seemed unconcerned.

"No," Harry pushed out his bottom lip, "But I'm pretty sure he knows we're lying about a lot of this. He didn't push though."

"Oh," Draco's drawl sounded almost disappointed.

"Or you could just thank us for keeping him out of prison," Ron snorted.

"My father's trying to kill me and all my friends," Draco sneered, "Thanks for keeping him out of prison."

"Draco," Hermione started, "You wanted -"

"It's my fault, I know," Draco sighed and wrestled his posture into a slump unseen on a Malfoy for generations. "But now that we know about Weasley's sister ... Don't you get it? Father sent the Dark Lord to your house! Not the real Dark Lord, but close enough. And if that isn't enough, he didn't know that Ginny hated Harry. For all he knew, she was set to tag along behind her big brother, keeping her close to Cupcake, to me! He picked her because it puts me in danger. There was nothing going on over the Christmas holidays, he left me here at school because no one else was going to be here, meaning I'd be in more danger, the fewer students around the more likely the basilisk finds its way to me!"

"Malfoy," Ron tried to cool his friend, "He's your father. I'm sure -"

"Dammit Weasley! The bloody snake was set loose to go after muggleborns, which gets Hermione out of the picture. Riddle gets out of the book and kills off Harry. Ginny gets caught and that's the end of the Weasley family's social standing. And if I get hurt in the process all the better because then he can go after Dumbledore full force without anyone thinking twice about it. You're not allowed to hate Dumbledore in our world, you all know that. But if he's responsible for your son getting hurt, or, or killed? Well, who's going to argue if you try to get him thrown out of every council he heads? No one! And then all Father's enemies are out of the picture in one fell swoop. And Riddle's around to take over where the Dark Lord left off."

"But," Harry's eyes widened and watered, "He's your daddy, he loves -"

"I told you once already, Cupcake, even if he does love me, he hates you more," he blinked back tears and tilted his chin to the next in line, "And he hates your family. And he hates that _you_ even exist, and _you _he doesn't even _bother_ hating, and _you two_, well you remember growing up with me so you already know what he thinks of you."

Draco looked at the time and slumped down even further, "And now I have to go and say hello to him and pretend like I don't know anything, all the while hoping Dobby doesn't give me away."

"He's here?" Harry wiggled out of Ron's arms and leaned toward the blond, "They're both here? I have an idea, but it might make for a trying summer."

"As long as it's worse for him," Draco sneered.

Harry and Ron followed Draco under the invisibility cloak, and waited by a great stone gargoyle outside the Headmaster's office while the blond went inside to send imperious frowns at Dumbledore alongside his father. It wasn't long before the gargoyle stepped aside and the two strode out, followed by the flagellating house-elf, Mister Malfoy looking somehow both triumphant and livid at the same time.

The boys waited while Lucius clamped a firm hand on Draco's shoulder.

"I'm proud of you, Draco," Lucius said, "It's about time the wizarding world remembered the Malfoy's as heroes. You will not allow that opinion to slip. Do you understand?"

"Yes Father," Draco nodded in well practiced wide eyed awe.

"You will however, take care to better your judgement and not displease me again," his voice was soft and full of warning.

Draco nodded and Lucius enveloped him in a stiff hug before sending him back to the common room. The boys hurried after the man, running on tiptoes to keep up with his strides and Dobby's full sprint. With the main entrance in sight, the boys removed their cloak and stuffed it into Harry's handbag.

"Mister Malfoy!" they called from just behind him and enjoyed the sight of Lucius spinning around in well disguised shock.

"Mister Potter," Lucius didn't bother to greet Ron, opting instead to send a sour distaining frown in his direction.

"I believe we have some business to take care of," Harry planted his hands on his hips. "Hello Dobby."

The house-elf peeked out from around Lucius' legs and waved.

"You were so nice when we met in Diagon Alley," Harry sassed, "But you're just a _phoney baloney_ aren't you?"

"I see you're recovering from your ordeal," Lucius replied dryly.

"Yes well," Harry raised a shoulder in a huff, "You know, no one has stopped to ask us where the diary came from, but I'm sure they will soon."

"You'd be surprised at how much Riddle had to say about you," Ron jumped in with a Draco worthy smirk, "Location of the manor."

"Frequent visitors."

"Interesting objects."

"Dark Marks and how to find them."

"Azkaban's very cold this time of year," Ron outright grinned, "_Any_ time of year, in fact."

"You would do this to Draco?" Lucius sneered.

"What?" Ron frowned, "You mean making him lord of the manor, head of the Malfoy line?"

"Well," Harry widened his eyes, "It _is_ a lot of responsibility, Ron, all that money, the power, the influence. Draco might never forgive us."

Ron sniggered and shook his head at the sneering blond.

"Draco is the only reason you're not in prison already," Harry said, "And he's the reason you're getting this chance to stay out now."

"I daresay certain damning truths would come about if you were to pursue this course of action," Lucius spat back with a smirk of his own, "Young Ginerva -"

"Gave the diary to Professor Lockhart on the first day of school," Ron smirked back, "She wanted to give it back to you but thought since it belonged to a Malfoy and all, that it was probably very valuable and maybe Lockhart would appreciate it."

"That was terribly naughty of her," Harry jumped in.

Ron nodded with a grin, "Yes, she sees that now, but she was a big fan of Lockhart's, you know, it clouded her common sense. I for one, am very disappointed in her poor judgement. I'm not sure she'll ever get over it, seeing as if she had given the diary back to you like she should have, none of this would have happened."

"It's tragic, really, the irony," Harry held his hands to heart and leaned into Ron in a feigned swoon.

"You will meet an end far more bloody than your parents," Lucius hissed. "What is your price?"

"Dobby," Harry said, "We want Dobby."

Lucius pulled off a glove and threw it at the elf. Dobby hurried to hand it over to Harry.

"Do not think that this is over -"

"Yes we know," Ron picked the house-elf up and lifted him to his chest like a very small child, "You're going to torture and kill us, but not before you ruin my family and Harry's reputation and make us all wish we were never born."

"You know it's funny that you'd be such a fan of the big V's," Harry pursed his lips in thought, "I thought Malfoys liked to win."

The boys turned their backs on the seething man. He promptly drew his wand. Neither boy startled, as neither of their wristbands sent a warning of danger. Dobby, peeking over Ron's shoulder, was shaking a long finger at man, no harm would come to either of his new masters, not while he could do anything about it. Malfoy spun on his heel and swept out of Hogwarts.

Dobby initially refused to leave Harry's and Ron's side, but finally relented once it was explained that Hogwarts' students weren't permitted personal elves and that his permanent presence would cause the boys trouble. He agreed to pop in if he heard them calling, and to enjoy himself and vacation a bit in the meantime, and whenever he felt the desire to clean he was welcome to do as much as he felt like in Salazar's room. He was instructed not to touch the basilisk or anything related to it, equipment included, but desliming the tunnel and ridding the area of animal bones would be swell.

The days swept by, returning to the usual routine of classes, quidditch practice, homework, detentions. Lockhart's class was now split among the professors who took care of the upper years and NEWT level students who handled the younger years. All in all, they found themselves doing quite a lot more book learning than they would have preferred. The group opted to continue Hermione's Dark Arts and its Defence plan and found a new student in Dean Thomas.

Harry baked a cake at the beginning of March for Ron's thirteenth birthday, and Dobby showed up with drinks and snacks for the whole group of second years, making them the envy of the rest of the house. To Draco's annoyance, Ron received a small vial of a non lethal poison as a gift from the purple-eyed man.

Just days later, Ron approached Harry after quidditch practice, with a query Harry knew was coming.

"I think we should go back to Sal's," he said in a deep quick breath.

"I knew you were going to say that," Harry pouted, "I want to keep going but I don't want to go back in there."

"Neither do I, but," Ron sighed, "I don't know. Something bad happened there, but we can't avoid every place that reminds us of what happened, can we? I mean, we go to the defence classroom."

Harry shrugged and squished himself into a ball against the stands.

"Can't we try it?" Ron said, "We can go down and just see how it goes, and if it's too bad we can leave and not go back."

Harry nodded, "Right now?"

Ron was taken aback but recognised that it was then or not at all.

They hurried to Myrtle's bathroom and found the ghost absent, a quick wiggle and hiss and Harry had jumped ahead before Ron had even finished checking the stalls.

Harry was agape and eyes looking everywhere when Ron arrived. It appeared Dobby's vacation had ended very early.

The tunnel now exited into a cushioned depression, the floor was still black but now shone, revealing well polished marble. Wall sconces had been installed bathing the room in a healthy glow.

"Holy crap! But where -"

Harry just pointed. The basilisk now sat far to the left on a raised work station by the wall now lined with shelving, their equipment stored and organised.

Ron followed as Harry wandered down the polished, well lit, bone free path. A vase of roses perched atop a mahogany stand next to the snake entwined wall.

A quick hiss and the boys were gasping; the polished marble floors continued but the green cast to the room was now golden, the statues emerald eyes had been changed to yellow. A spattering of slightly mismatched furniture was arranged in the centre of the room, resting on an enormous thick fluffy rug.

"Where did he get all this stuff?" Ron sputtered.

Harry wrinkled his brow, "He must have found it around the castle, I hope nobody is missing anything."

"Dobby sure likes to bend rules," Ron snorted.

Harry nodded absently and made his way to where the crater in the stone floor should have been; the spot where the diary, Tom Riddle, and Lockhart were destroyed. Whether the crater was still there or not was unseen, as a circular sculptured stone covered the spot. A shimmering glass globular jar was resting on top, filled nearly to the brim with black ashes.

He unscrewed the top and after a quick pass, found a candy wrapper in his robes. With ginger fingers, he dipped the wrapper into the ashes, long moments passed before it began to brown and char. Flames did not erupt but had Harry kept the wrapper in place, perhaps they would have.

"We should do something with this," Harry hushed, "Something better than leaving it here I mean."

Ron nodded. The boys returned to the basilisk in silence and got down to work.

Gryffindor beat Hufflepuff, Slytherin beat Ravenclaw. Harry was prepared with chocolate cupcakes with banana cream centres when the twins turned fifteen in April. The school endured a full day of pranks in honour of the boys - though most were done by the twins themselves. Harry's owl post continued to grow, bringing with it many gifts and thank yous, sometimes tales of woe, and the addition of a weekly half hour to devote to writing return notes of acknowledgment and thanks. Just before Easter holidays yet another new distraction arrived.

The time had come to choose their subjects for third year, a matter that Hermione was determined to have them take seriously.

"It will effect our whole future," she frowned.

Ron let out a wild snort, "Then we should be allowed to drop Defence! Honestly we learn more without a professor than we do with."

The group paused in an awkward silence and turned their gaze to Harry.

He pouted, "Fine," he said with a deep harrumph, "I'll get rid of the next one as soon as possible."

The group relaxed and returned to their choices.

Neville had received owls from just about every relative he had ever heard of, to advise him on the best selections, Ron tossed the parchments into the nearest fire before Neville could open them, to the boy's great relief.

Debate broke out when Vincent noticed that, rather than select two or three courses, Hermione had signed up for the lot.

"But you're parents are _muggles_," Harry whined, "You grew up as a _muggle_, you go back to the _muggle world every summer!_"

"I think it'll be very valuable to learn about the muggle society from a wizarding perspective," Hermione answered back hotly.

"Hermione," Draco cast a wink at the boys' futile attempts to dissuade her, "I think you're perfectly justified taking Muggle Studies."

Hermione sent Harry a satisfied 'humph!' and beamed at Draco.

"I mean," he continued, "We know Harry's going to take the top spot in Potions and probably Defence this year as well, and it won't be long before I edge you out of Charms, and Neville takes over in Herbology ... who knows when the overall top spot will go to someone else?" Draco smirked, "A soft option will help keep your average up."

"It isn't a -" Hermione stopped and glared at the lot of them, "Oh fine," she seethed but crossed Muggle Studies off her list. Harry hid his grin by leaning over to cross Divination off her list as well.

"If magical divination is anything like muggle," Harry giggled, "You might be asked at some point to clear your mind."

"Funny," Hermione narrowed her eyes at him but the boys noticed with hidden smirks and giggles that she did not add Divination back to her list. "You know, I liked it better when we only ganged up on Cupcake."

After Harry's comment about Divination, Neville choose to cross it off his list as well, while Ron, Gregory, and Vincent decided to add it to their course load, with Gregory and Ron opting for Care of Magical Creatures as their seconds, and Vincent going with the much discussed Muggle Studies course.

"Your parents won't be angry?" Harry worried.

Vincent snorted, "They will be if they ever ask what courses I'm going to take, but they won't, so they won't."

Ron and Neville added Muggle Studies to their course load as well, while Draco looked on with envy.

"Your parents might not notice," he shrugged, "But mine will, I can't take that course."

"Anybody can read the course books though," Gregory grinned.

"And Hermione and I know all about the muggle world," Harry gushed, "So you all already have perfect tutors, there's no reason you couldn't learn at the same time, Draco, and you too Gregory. We can't have you two being the only ones who don't know about the muggle world."

"Actually," Hermione sobered, "I hate to say this, but I think it's important for you especially, Draco. This thing with your father might get worse one day, and -"

"And if he tries to kill me more directly, being able to hide in the muggle world might come in handy?" Draco sneered.

"Well," Hermione blushed, "Yes actually."

"We'll teach you everything you need to know," Harry let loose a three snap Z-formation, "Mister Malfoy won't know what hit him."

Like Ron, Harry and Hermione opted to take three additional courses: Care of Magical Creatures with Ron, Draco, and Greg, Ancient Runes, which they would take alone, and Arithmancy which they would have with Neville, who thought Ancient Runes would be too difficult to remember, and Care of Magical Creatures well out of his realm.

"Even my toad doesn't like me," he shrugged.

With the danger gone, both Hermione and Draco returned home for Easter holidays, and with Ginny newly awakened the Weasleys wanted their whole family home to celebrate.

"You're invited to come, Cupcake," Ron urged his friend, "Mum'll be upset if you don't stay with us."

"Ginny won't like it," Harry pouted.

"Yeah well, considering how much trouble she caused, I don't think it matters much whether she likes it or not. You saved her life, Cupcake."

"Ron," Harry sighed, "I don't want to see her. Not yet anyway."

Harry walked with his friends to see them off but after a round of hugs and a final plea from Ron, he hurried off to spend time with Hagrid.

Ron was quiet and restless during the journey to King's Cross and subsequent drive home with his brothers and Father.

"Ron!" Ginny ran to meet her brother. She held her arms out to be embraced but Ron grabbed her forearms and held her away from him.

"We have to talk," he growled and pulled her away from the family and up the stairs.

She was already in tears when he sat down in her bedroom.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you caused?" he stormed.

"You don't understand!" her eyes spilled over.

"You are the one who doesn't understand," Ron spat back, "Lockhart's dead!"

"Potter killed him!" Ginny sobbed, "He's dangerous, I've told you."

Ron found himself in a strange new position, his mouth completely unable to form words. He rose and paced instead.

"Lockhart's dead because it was the only way Harry could save your life," he finally seethed, "And your life was in danger because you were too mean and too stupid to give that diary over to Dad. You must have known how you ended up with it. You must have figured out that Mister Malfoy slipped it to you. Wasn't that enough warning that it was dangerous? But you didn't care about any of that so long as you could get at Harry."

Ginny burst into a wail. Ron shook his head in disgust, "Do you think Riddle didn't tell us everything? Do you know how many people could have died? You nearly killed Vin, not to mention Creevey and the Hufflepuff! And now Lockhart's dead because of you and everyone thinks he was a Death Eater and blaming him for everything."

"I didn't say anything!" she hiccoughed.

"We said it!" Ron seethed, "Me and my friends made up that stupid story about Lockhart so you would stay out of trouble. Tom Riddle is _Voldemort_ you stupid bint. Do you really think Mum and Dad can afford to keep your wand from being snapped? Do you think this wouldn't have cost Dad his job? There's no way for us to prove Malfoy gave you the diary, people would think _Dad_ was the Death Eater. Didn't you ever think about what could happen?"

"I didn't know!" she burst out.

"And now you're lying," Ron sighed. "All this just so you could hurt Harry. I don't get it, Ginny, you've never been so mean before, and Harry's never done anything to make you that way."

"He's dangerous, Ron," she cried, "He got his own family killed, he -"

"Why do you keep saying that garbage?" Ron shouted. "You used to love all that Boy-Who-Lived orphan crap, and now you don't care at all that Harry stopped Voldemort."

"The Boy-Who-Lived stopped You-Know-Who," Ginny sobbed, "The Boy-Who-Lived was perfect, and Harry Potter killed him. Potter's ruined my whole future. The Boy-Who-Lived was going to marry me, I know he was."

Ron snorted with disbelief, "You and every other witch this side of the Atlantic, honestly Ginny, you don't see all the other girls with dreams of the Boy-Who-Lived in their head lining up to hurt him."

"It's different!" she trembled, "He's your friend, he was supposed to come to visit and he'd see me and fall in love and, and, he ruined everything! The Boy-Who-Lived isn't supposed to like boys! It's supposed to be like in the fairy tales."

"Well the Boy-Who-Lived _is_ a fairy tale, and you can have him. But he's not Harry, so stop this nonsense before you get someone else killed. You're my little sister, Ginny," Ron said gravely, "I love you, and I'll always protect you, but if you're going to force me to pick between you and Harry, well, you won't like it."

Ginny sobbed louder.

"Harry's going to stay with us over the summer," Ron said, "He saved you're life, and you are going to treat him properly." He turned and threw open the door to leave. And stopped. "Oh bollocks!" he sputtered.

Fred, George, and Percy all stood at the door, red faced and stunned at what they had overheard.

oo00O00oo

"Oh my goodness!" Harry squealed as Ron told the group the tale once they were reunited at Hogwarts.

"What happened?" Hermione exclaimed.

"You wouldn't believe it," Ron snorted, "They agreed not to tell Mum and Dad, even Percy! He says that they'd wind up going to the authorities and coming clean and that the family would never recover. Ginny might lose her wand, Dad would lose his job. Then Percy graduates next year so he'd face the worst of it trying to get a job and getting turned away everywhere."

"What about Ginny?" Neville frowned, "I know she's your sister and everything, but it seems wrong that she's getting away with all of this. Even Mister Malfoy had to face some consequences."

Ron shrugged and let out a long groan, "I don't know. There doesn't seem a whole lot we can do without telling my parents."

"Well," Hermione frowned, "She did spend a long time in a coma, and she'll have to restart her first year next September, that's something."

"And she'll be getting the cold shoulder from all her brothers," Greg shrugged, "That'll be rough."

"Dobby'll be a right pain in her side," Draco offered, "Until she proves herself trustworthy to you and Cupcake, he'll be making her life miserable."

The group agreed that without informing someone in authority, what little retribution she faced would have to do.

Exams became a priority, and the boys allowed themselves to be subjected to Hermione's rigorous study plan. They all enjoyed the benefits of a clearer mind as they studied, Vincent and Gregory most of all, but Harry and Ron were beginning to catch up. Like Vincent and Gregory, both had managed to empty their minds and keep them that way when focused, and had become proficient enough that they could begin organising their thoughts and memories into imaginary shelves, cupboards, and toy boxes.

Even Neville was enjoying the fruits of his progress, his potions had settled from the danger point to mere turbulence.

Every gap in Harry's schedule had been claimed by Oliver and the Gryffindor Quidditch team, preparing for the last Quidditch match of the season. With their wins against both Slytherin and Hufflepuff, they were the only team still undefeated; the cup was theirs to lose to Ravenclaw, and losing was not in the plan. Granted, winning wasn't in the plan either. Absolute obliteration was the goal.

"This is insane," Hermione huffed as Harry closed his books, just hours before their Astronomy exam.

"I'm done," Harry shrugged, "Besides, they're sort of doing this for _little ol' me_ you know, to get Ravenclaw back for calling me a menace and trying to get me _expelled_, remember?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "You saved everyone's lives and they know it, they're embarrassed enough."

"Not according to Oliver," Harry shimmied, "I have to do my part."

When everyone else collapsed with relief after the last exam, the Gryffindor Quidditch team prepared. The usual post exam Weasley twin led common room extravaganza was even put on hold until after their last match.

Saturday morning dawned warm and bright.

"Perfect weather for battle," Wood gleamed. The pep talk had begun.

Wood's game plans had changed dramatically from the usual win at all costs strategy. He had decided instead to wage a guerrilla war on an unsuspecting target. Katie Bell, the best catcher of the Chasers was to hang back at all times, assisting Oliver in guarding the hoops, Alicia Spinnet, the Chasers' best flier, would be spotting Ravenclaw's seeker, keeping in his line of vision as much as possible, while Angelina Johnson, who had the best arm, would be responsible for scoring, all the while the three would be protecting themselves from Bludgers. Fred and George would be focussed on taking the opposing team out of the game. Their own Chasers would take care of themselves, while they picked off the Ravenclaw players one by one, Keeper first.

There were no jokes or rolled eyes during their captain's foam at the mouth pre-game rant, only nodding heads and determined faces.

"They are the lambs," Oliver finished his speech with a merciless gleam, "We are the slaughter."

Oliver had been practicing his grip for weeks in anticipation of the start of game captains' hand shake. The hand that had days before, finally snapped thick twigs in it's fist, reached out to cripple the captain before him. That was all the warning the opposition would receive.

They took to the air and launched into their gameplan without hesitation. The Ravenclaw Keeper fell early, being squashed between a Bludger and a goal hoop as he guarded against a Gryffindor try on goal. Angelina missed, Fred and George did not.

The Ravenclaw team were soon out of time outs, having used them all to regroup after their Keeper was taken out, then again when they had to reposition their Beater's dislocated shoulder, then again when their best Chaser took a Bludger to the ribs ...

Thirty minutes in, Harry dove bullet like toward the ground, the opposing Seeker was too busy shaking Alicia off his tail to notice. Harry pulled up too late and caught the tail of his broom on the earth. He skidded and bounced, landing with a thump. He rolled off his broom and struggled to right himself before giving up and staying seated in the grass, his broom in his hand but at his side. The spectators waited for the time out to be called. Madam Hooch looked to Oliver, but he shook his head. The game continued amid appal from the audience.

Fred and George managed to de-seat another Ravenclaw Chaser, taking him out of the game.

Katie was waved away from her post with Oliver, and joined Angelina in racking up the score, they were soon joined by Alicia, who abandoned the frantic Seeker.

"Harry!"

Harry had been keeping his eye on Oliver the whole time, and nodded back at the shout and signal. Time to end it before Ravenclaw could forfeit. He took a deep breath and readied himself, then shifted his bottom back and grabbed. A moment later he thrust his hand into the air in triumph, and climbed to his feet, a rumpled and rather indignant golden Snitch in his fingers.

The stands went wild as the game was called; Harry returned to his broom and the skies.

The Gryffindor team regrouped in the air, but before they could start the celebrations, Oliver stopped them, "We're not done yet," he said and took off.

The team followed and zipped through the air toward the stands. Instead of performing the expected victory lap, they flew straight ahead and stopped at the Ravenclaw section. A quick glance around saw that Oliver had indeed braked just before the sour faced boy who had led the accusations against Harry in the Great hall.

"You understand?" Oliver glared.

The boy was flushed red and glaring but nodded.

Though a few of the Ravenclaws opted to return to the castle as soon as possible following the presentation of the Cup, most of the school had swarmed the pitch to begin the post game festivities.

Harry was swept up in a congratulatory hug from Hagrid and soon found his eyes were near to popping, but for once, it wasn't due to Hagrid's enthusiasm. Slytherin captain, Marcus Flint, had clapped Oliver on the shoulder, "Well that was alright," he was heard to say.

Harry showered quickly and joined his friends outside, Hagrid swept him up in another hug and didn't put him back down till they were a third of the way to his hut.

"That. Was. Brilliant!" Ron exclaimed through a chocolate milkshake mustache, "You should have heard everyone -"

"Honestly," Hermione cut in, "People were threatening to storm the pitch to force a timeout. We were trying to figure out a way to curse Oliver from the stands! I can't believe you guys!"

"If they knew I had the Snitch," Harry gave an excited wiggle, "They'd have forfeited the game before we could win properly."

Neville shook his head, "It doesn't seem fair that you hardly got to play though. All that training so you could spend twenty minutes sitting on the Snitch in the middle of the game."

"It kept trying to fly away," Harry's eyes glazed over, "It was nice," he peeped.

The Slytherins sat at the Gryffindor table for the Leaving Feast, as Gryffindor had taken the House Cup. They trudged back to the dorms stuffed to bursting and eager for their summer to begin.

"Cupcake," Ron lifted his hands to reveal his Christmas spray bottle, comb, and scissors. "Can you?"

Harry rolled his eyes, "You haven't even _thought_ about packing yet and you want to stop so I can _trim your hair?_" he huffed.

"Mum likes it," Ron argued, "And well, you know I won't see Su or anyone until September -"

"And so you want to make a lasting impression?" Harry burst over with giggles and agreed.

oo00O00oo

"I forgot something," Ron stopped as planned when they reached the entrance floor.

"You guys go ahead and get a compartment, we'll catch you up on the train," Harry and Ron hurried down the hall and didn't stop till they reached the caretaker's office.

"Mr Filch?" Harry said, wide-eyed and teary.

The man glared in response.

"Er," Ron grimaced, "We, er, we really liked Mrs Norris."

"She was soft and pretty," Harry's tears spilled over, "And it's awful what happened to her."

The boys shared a look and Harry pulled the ash filled jar from his robes.

"This is what's left of who killed her," Ron said as Harry couldn't bring himself to say the carefully worded truth.

"The ashes will burn if you touch them, but we thought you should have it," Harry gushed, "If you want to give it to Professor Dumbledore, that's okay, but it's up to you. He doesn't know about it."

"We're really sorry," Ron added before the boys hurried away.

"Are you going anywhere this summer?" Harry peeked around with his hands full of Hermione's thick mane, attempting to tame the wild curls into two French braids.

Hermione groaned, "I don't know," she let out a deep sigh, "We were supposed to go to France, but my parents want me to spend the summer going to counselling."

"What's that?" Neville furrowed his brow.

Harry's jaw was dropping, "Why would they send you? You don't have problems."

Hermione rolled her eyes and explained to the others, "Counselling is when muggles have emotional problems and issues and go to a professional to help them sort it out."

"It's also for crazy people," Harry grinned.

"Harry!" she gasped.

"Well it _is_."

"Well, it is," she agreed, "But it's also for people who've experienced a traumatic event. You know Hogwarts contacted all the parents when we were taken, so they know what happened, at least some of it. Anyway, my parents think that being kidnapped and having my magic threatened was traumatic enough that I should talk to someone."

"What happens if traumatic people don't get counsellined?" Greg frowned.

"Well," Hermione shrugged, "I don't know, really, but whatever it is, the counselling is supposed to prevent it."

Harry began to panic, the others shared his worry.

"But," Neville worried, "Cupcake's been traumaticked tons of times, and he's never had counselling."

"Maybe that's how it happens," Harry eeeked, "Maybe that's how I wind up a Dark Lord."

"Well, wait," Draco frowned, "I'm a bit unclear, do we want Cupcake to be a Dark Lord? Or don't we?"

The group shrugged, and the discussion soon turned to plans for Hermione's back to school shopping, and how they could coordinate so Harry could go with her, since as Harry said, Hermione was going to have her boobies anytime now, and would likely get many new fashions to accommodate them.

"Will I get to see your training bra?" Harry clapped his hands together in glee.

"Cupcake!" Hermione shrieked.

"What happens if they don't get trained?" Ron looked horrified.

Ron and Harry wandered to spend some time with the twins, the Slytherins peeked in on their housemates, Harry stopped in to say hello to Colin, Ron spent time conspiring with Justin, who had come through with 'the list' and agreed that some grudges were worth keeping. Hermione sat with Su Li but left quickly once Ron arrived to play with his hair, dragging the redhaired monster behind her.

Harry arrived back at their compartment to find Hermione just about to enter, giving a quick wave to Dean who left once she was inside.

Harry hurried inside and slid the door shut behind him. He rounded on the already seated girl, "What was that, little missy?" Harry jutted out his hip and grinned, "That _was_ Dean you were waving at?"

"We're, well," Hermione beamed, "He wants to call me sometime over the summer, his parents are muggles too, so they have telephones and everything. And he knows how to take the underground by himself so he might come over to do some of our assignments together."

"What?" Ron choked out. Harry shot the boy a fierce glare. "Er, right," he sputtered, and pointed at Hermione's chest, "Well he'd better not interfere with your training, if he knows what's good for him."

"Father won't make a scene," Draco said once the train had stopped. "But it's best not to provoke him."

Harry and Ron nodded, why cause a scene if you don't have to? And who knew what the senior Malfoy might say within hearing distance of the wrong people?

"Harry, Ronald! Over here!"

Harry and Ron glanced up from their trunks and pets at the shout, and were soon seeing afterimages as flashbulbs went off in their faces.

"Daily Prophet," Harry rolled his eyes, "They really take advantage of me not having parents, don't they?"

"And of mine not having the money to sue," Ron huffed as well but soon brightened, "Ha, and you thought I should wait to touch up my hair, see?"

"Ron!" Harry giggled.

Ginny was waiting on the other side of the barrier, tucked to the side to avoid any collisions.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she peeped.

Harry brightened, "It's alright." He paused to give her a proper look, and noticed that when the anger and hate were removed, she wore a look very similar to what he had grown accustomed to seeing in Colin. Hopeful longing.

"Ginny," Harry said, understanding now what the literally boy crazy young girl needed to hear in order to reset and start over with Harry with a clean slate, "Have you met Draco Malfoy?"

Ginny's eyes took in the silvery eyes and coifed hair, the pointed nose and pale sculpted features of the pureblood aristocrat. They had both been in the Leaky Cauldron that time, and sure they had both been in Hogwarts, but she had never actually _seen_ him.

"Hello," she blushed.


	19. Author's Notes

Hello!

Thanks again for sticking it out for the last couple of years and making it to the end of the story. This took much longer than I anticipated, but I'm certainly glad to have plodded through. While I have many ideas for Book 4 and upward, I think if I do Book 3, it will probably be my last in the flaming Harry series.

This chapter-by-chapter thing, with months in between is a bit tiresome for me and in fact, I think the story suffers a bit when going back to make changes, or edit for continuity/new plots/deletion of old plots etc, is not a viable option. I end up being forced to make do with what's already been posted and having to abandon new or alternate ideas for the story. Therefore, if indeed I do Book 3 it will already be complete by the time I begin posting it, and I'll simply upload as I edit.

A huge 'thank you' to all my reviewers. I don't reply to reviews, which is likely a bit bothersome for you, but do know that your comments are absolutely appreciated and enjoyed.

Have a good one!

Girl X

(you can find me at naughtygirlx dot com)

..By the way, I am completely hating the fact that you can't post more than a double space between paragraphs! How annoying and at times quite ugly!..

A few notes about the story:

Harry didn't feel quite as flaming as I would have liked. I went through the story and saw that he was doing all the flamboyant things he did before, but as they continue to occur, they begin to feel normal, and as such, not so flaming. So then I'd push him a little further to get the flaming vibe back, but that too becomes the norm and the vibe fades. So, this is likely as flaming as Harry is going to get. Short of putting him in a dress and entering a skipping competition, this is as flamboyant as I can make him just now.

I'm really enjoying the Ron character, and I think the developments are very in keeping with my previous story and the starting point from Rowling's Book 1. Ron is simply a much better friend, but he is so mainly because _Harry_ is a better friend. Harry confided in him right away on the train in the first story - no secrets. Because Ron knows of Harry's situation it's sort of impossible for him to feel jealous. Ron often protects and takes care of Harry - who's a bit delicate at times, so he gets to feel important and appreciated, not just the sidekick that goes unnoticed. Also, as Harry rather enjoys being delicate and pampered, Ron often winds up in the leadership position in the group, with Harry really only taking charge when the real rough stuff has to be taken care of. And of course, with Draco in the group, Hermione's position in the hierarchy is slightly diminished, leaving Ron to truly be the Second-in-Command.

Percy is turning out to be less of an ass as well. Harry has a bit of a blanket crush on the Weasley boys in general, so he isn't as quick to ignore Percy the way Rowling's Harry is, wanting instead to be surrounded by as many Weasley boys as possible. This has helped Percy be more a part of the family with the younger brothers, rather than being stuck alone in the middle. Also, even though Percy is a stickler for the rules and going by the book, sometimes that actually leads him to being sort of cool in his brothers' eyes. I think his actions regarding Ginny and cancelling class were actually _very_ Percy, but sometimes behaving like Percy means being sort of heroic.

I had fun with Ginny. I thought that J.K.'s early Ginny was sort of a lovesick puppy - but we know she's also a sort of fireplug. So how would a lovesick fireplug deal with the disappointment of her life? With off the wall rage and craziness.


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